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Published on Mar 18, 2012
Brewton Alabama at The Colonial Inn, hot day, old orange juice, some vodka on a night stand, there's a Chevy Nova with the seat burned out the back, from a Winston cigarette, that was stumped into the wind
old Bobby Long was like Zorba the Greek, Side-tracked by the scent of a woman, Could've been an actor on a moviescreen Stayed in Alabama just a dreamer of dreams
He played football against W.S.E.O. should've seen him running down the field I grow old, I grow old where the bottoms of my trousers rolled it's a love song, for Bobby Long A love song, for Bobby Long
he was a handsome man, he had Cherokee cheeckbones a fair haired boy, where did he go wrong, he chose a roadless travel, made all the difference,
now he's chastisezed, critisiezed he don't make no sense Brewton called him crazy, he said Bobby Long was nothing but a drunk, but all the thoughts in his head was way passed anything they duwmb funk it's a love song, for Bobby Long a love song, for Bobby Long
but don't get me wrong, Bobby Long was no good, he'd drag you down, if he thought he could well he would drag you down, the road I ride will be the day for me won't come along the road I ride is gonna set me free he's gonna take me home
he was a friend of my papa's he used to drink and tell lies praised Flannery O'Connors, smoked cigarettes and filosophied so here I am at The Colonial Inn me and Captain Long and my pretty girl-friend he charmes her with a poem, then he brakes down and cries smile a crooked smile, with his broken cheeck-bone side tells about his life, now he's 63, he looks me in the eyes, he says come and go with me he could walk on water, walk on water but you know you drown themselves and wine god and a devil, god and a devil, god and a devil along inside his mind it's a love song, for Bobby Long a love song, for Bobby Long