Lucia Ann

7 days in a week, 40 days a year
Dirty miles I drove, all become so clear
Well I’m strung out from the highway
I need a pick up, but my get up has come and gone
Now the miles that come between us
Are the stories and the napkins to be unfold

Many people change, some they stay the same
And there’s folks that rust, like an old tow chain
And I’m hungry on the highway
I got the feeling that I’m a gonna bust
And the sky that come between us
Is an ocean, or a puddle, it ain’t that much

Lucia Ann, don’t you know?
I got a picture and a pedal to make me go
Lucia Ann don’t you know?
I got a fever and sweater to make me cold.

40 miles are done, rest in front of my nose
I can charm the dust, right here off my clothes
And I’m strung out from the highway
I got a pencil and a purpose to write some prose
Now the time looks thin between us
Like Catherine Zeta in some big guys clothes
Zeta Jones

7 days in a week, 40 days a year
Dirty miles I drove, all become so clear
Well I’m strung out from the highway
I need a pick up, but my get up has come and gone
Now the miles that come between us
Are the stories and the napkins to be unfold
Zeta Jones
Yeah the miles that come between us
Is an ocean, or a puddle, it ain’t that much
Ambrosino ©2016

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