Divorce and the American South

Hey, Dianne, could you pick up the phone?
Oh, 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?

Oh, 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
Locked myself in this phone booth;
Read you the number aloud
Now I'm waiting it out

Well, if I lay here long enough
Maybe the bugs would eat me whole
And 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

Oh, hey, Dianne, I've been trying to quit
I went from a 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

And hey, Dianne, I know I fucked up
It's just when we lost the baby, I kind of shut off
And I know I never listened
I wasn't there for you enough
I'm a fuck up

Well, if I lay here long enough
Maybe the bugs would eat me whole
And 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

I had a dream that I, I flew back North
And the plane went down before we hit New York
You didn't come to the funeral
I hope you'd come to the funeral

Hey, Dianne