Collision Course

Two t-shirts in a plastic bag, tennis shoes underneath the seat
I lost my license in the last hotel or maybe this morning when I stopped to eat.
Left San Francisco late Tuesday night.
Three day ride through the desert sun.
Riding down on a collision course.
I don't want to talk to anyone.

And I wait and pray. Try to find a way out of this mess.
And I take the blame and let off a call of distress.

Donna left Dallas two weeks ago in a beat-up Ford that her father gave her.
She was tired of all the people that had let her down.
She was tired of all the people that had tried to save her.
Shielding her eyes against the sky, she stopped off at a diner close to Arizona.
I was thinking about a friend that l'd left behind.
I stopped off at a diner and I tried to phone her (ch)

Stopped off at the diner and I got some coffee.
Two seats down Donna asked for tea.
I was tired of learning things that I already knew.
I looked at Donna and she looked at me.
Twenty minutes later she was out the door
Thirty minutes later I was gone for good.
I wish I had a better story to tell you
But sometimes things don't work out
just the way they should(ch).