Winter Conversation

I was sitting and thinking on a cold Winter's night
Thinking "Where is that girl in this city's bright lights?"
With the whores and the homeless huddled in the streets
"Where will this night lead and will we ever meet?"

I decided to go out walking and search through the years
I stopped in a dive bar for a cigarette and a beer
And a simple old man by the jukebox drunk and wise
Looked like he had an answer so I gave him a try

He said: "Son, you seem a bit lonesome."
Well everyone is lonesome sometimes.
I lost my wife 3 years ago and I drink just to speed up my dying."

I bought him some bourbon and we talked for awhile
I told him my story he talked of his wife
How she was the only woman that he'd understood
He sighed "Jessie please come back" but he knew she never would.

And the music reflected his feelings
It was Buck Owens singing "Sweet Rosie Jones"
He looked in my eyes and without a surprise
He said "This bottle is the only friend I know."

And me just like him I'm a struggling man
I finished my beer and shook his thin hand
And I felt like Gram Parsons in the desert drunk and sad
So I looked for that girl to help me find my bed

But I've only kissed her in pictures
And I've only dreamed of her smile
Most of these years I've lived with the fear
Of waking up lonesome each night

I drifted outside alone once again
I turned up my collar to the howling Winter wind
And when I made it home I lit another cigarette
And dreamed of the girl I still haven't met