Sixty miles from El Paso
Feelin' lonesome as can be
Driving further from the heartache
That was slowly killing me
I left at 4 am last Monday
Filled my tank at luther's store
I might be checking' in come Sunday
'cause I know by then she'll walk the floor
She has it still inside her skull
That I am hers and she is mine
She's dead on empty and I am full of
Broken dreams and homemade wine
Feelin' lonesome as can be
Driving further from the heartache
That was slowly killing me
I left at 4 am last Monday
Filled my tank at luther's store
I might be checking' in come Sunday
'cause I know by then she'll walk the floor
She has it still inside her skull
That I am hers and she is mine
She's dead on empty and I am full of
Broken dreams and homemade wine