Hurricane Party - James McMurtry

The hurricane party’s windin' down

And we’re all waitin' for the end

And I don’t want another drink

I only want that last one again

He gave me such a fine glow, smoky and slow

Now I should probably be homeward bound

There’s just no one to talk to

When the lines go down

I guess that in the morning I’ll go lookin'

For my gray-striped cat

My old house can take the weather

So I’m not too concerned about that

It was built to take the wind back in nineteen-and-ten

When this was one damned fine town

But now there’s no one to talk to

When the lines go down

Candles flickered on the back bar

And the buildin' was shakin' with the wind

I bought a whiskey for the gypsy

And she turned my leather back into skin

Just a fleeting sense of that rare suspense

I once thought made the world go around

But now there’s no one to talk to

When the lines go down

Open up your back screen door

Let me see your face once more

My hands are cold and my feet so sore

And I can’t go on this way

And the thoughts come too fast and too many to keep count

Best just let 'em on through

Now I’m breakin' those glass insulators

With my old .22

Off the telephone polls as a half dollar rolls

Across the knuckles of a rodeo clown

There’s just no one to talk to

When the lines go down

My one great love

My God, I can feel her still

She ran off to California

And now she’s livin' in those Hollywood hills

With some bullfrog prince, I’ve not seen her since

Though she calls when he’s out of town

And there’s no one to talk to

When the lines go down

Open up your back screen door

Let me in your space once more

I was looking for an easy score

But it just don’t work that way

Some insurance-man biker

Is yellin' out for one more beer

But a part-time pirate

Just can’t get much respect around here

We got our problems too, man we’ll get to you in just a minute

Sit your drunk ass down

Yeah, there’s no one to talk to

When the lines go down

Now there’s water up past the wheel wells of my Ford

And I don’t guess that it’ll run

But I left a pack of Winston’s on the dash

Could you fetch 'em for me son?

The morning’s first cigarette, that’s as good as it gets all day

I should know by now

That there’s no one to talk to

When the lines go down