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,
But where did he go wrong,
He chose a road less traveled,
Made all the difference,
Now he’s chastised, criticized,
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 done thunk.
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 you come along, he said
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'Connor,
Smoked cigarettes and philosophied.
So here I am at The Colonial Inn,
Me and Captain Long and my pretty girl-friend.
He charms her with a poem...
Then he breaks down and cries
Smiles 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 he drowns himself in 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
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