Divorce and the American South

Hey Dianne,
Could you pick up the phone?
I know that you're listening.
Baby, I know that you're home and I know where I went wrong.
Don't you leave me alone.
Could you pick up the phone?
I'm lost at a truck stop somewhere in the South.
I don't know where I'm going, but I'm figuring it out.
I locked myself in this phone booth; read your number out loud.
Now, I'm waiting it out.
If I lay here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat me whole.
If I stay here long enough, maybe the night would take me home.
I won't let go, even if you say so.
No, I won't let go.
Hey, Dianne,
I've been trying to quit.
I went from pack and a half a day to this e-cigarette bullshit.
It don't give me what I want, but it stops them coughing fits.
Oh, I know how you hate it.
Hey, Dianne,
I know I fucked up.
It's just when we lost the baby, I kind of shut off.
I know I never listened.
I wasn't there for you enough.
I'm a fuck up.
If I lay here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat me whole.
If I stay here long enough, maybe the night could take me home.
I won't let go, even if you say so.
No, I won't let go.
I had a dream I flew back North
And the plane went down before we hit New York.
You didn't come to the funeral.
You didn't come to the funeral.
I hope you'd come to the funeral.
I hope you'd come to the funeral.
Hey, Dianne...