| They’d hooked you up to a fentanyl drip
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| To mitigate the pain a little bit
|
| I flew in from Pennsylvania
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| When I heard the hour was coming fast
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| And I docked in Santa Barbara
|
| Tried to brace myself
|
| But you can’t brace yourself when the time comes
|
| You just have to roll with the blast
|
| And I’m an eighteen wheeler headed down the interstate
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| And my brakes are going to give and I won’t know until it’s too late
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| Tires screaming when I lose control
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| Try not to hurt too many people when I roll
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| Find the Harbor Freeway and head south
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| Real tired, head kind of light
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| I found Telegraph Road, I’d only seen the name on envelopes
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| Found the parking lot and turned right
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| I felt all the details carving out space in my head
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| Tropicana’s on the walkway, neon red
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| Between the pain and the pills trying to hold it at bay
|
| Stands a traveler going somewhere far away
|
| And I am an airplane tumbling wing over wing
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| Tried to listen to my instruments, they don’t say anything
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| People screaming when the engines quit
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| I hope we’re all in crash position when we hit
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| And then came to your bedside
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| And as it turns out, I’m not ready
|
| And as though you were speaking through a thick haze
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| You said hello to me
|
| We all stood there around you
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| Happy to hear you speak
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| The last of something bright burning, still burning
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| Beyond the cancer and the chemotherapy
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| And you were a presence full of light upon this earth
|
| And I am a witness to your life and to its worth
|
| It’s three days later when I get the call
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| And there’s nobody around to break my fall |