Little King

Little King
 you grew up a mile from my town
 and I never thought to write it down
 raking the autumn leaves
 and hoping for some pretty company
 I was always packing a suitcase in the dark
 In my mind a highway to the western spark
 only an overpass
 over the hills of dusty grass
 And I would have taken all your rifles
 And I would have taken all your bibles
 And I would have taken all your rifles
 for a ride
 Little King I swear
 that this is not a dream
 I read that this is what it should be
 in a magazine
 sun of the broken down
 daughter of a love and prison town
 and I would have taken all your rifles
 and I would have taken all your bibles
 and I would have taken all your rifles
 for a ride
 for a ride
 for a ride
 We can drink whiskey or sit inside the car
 and listen to the silence of the stars
 only an overpass
 sprung from hills of broken glass
 many lands of sorrow
 and wishing for tomorrow
 make me your sweethearted lady