She came on up from Waycross yeah… From a whiskey swamp and a vagabond clan With her tune in her bucket and her head held high And a book about her grandpa flying the skies She said, Man it ain’t never gonna be the same You know I’ll give ‘em a chance but No one can play like Duane Now it was back in the Fall of ‘71 Duane met a flatbed coming home With his song in the charts and his Harley flying through the air Now he was just hitting his stride when the angels wept They said, Man it ain’t never gonna be the same You know we’ll give ‘em a chance but No one can play like Duane We lose the best, we lost the rest, we lose it all along the way We learn to dig down deep, wipe our hands, and walk away from the grave She said, Now, I got a hole that just won’t fix As deep as a sky that won’t be lit The span of a wing that just won’t fly And I been carrying this tune since the angels cried She said, Man it ain’t never gonna be the same You know I’ll give ‘em a chance but No one can play like DuaneTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
