The Bluegrass Festival

When you died,

Was there sand in your boots?

And who cleaned in between your toes?

It must have been really hot out there,

With your brains on the desert sand.

 

I wish that I could have come

And took one in the head

Maybe God would have smiled

And given yours to me instead.

 

I should have gone to that festival

The one out in the sticks

But I knew that everyone out there

Would just get really drunk.

 

But now I wish that I had known

And gone to see you safe

To carry you back into your tent

And take off your boots.

 

I promise I really did like to hear

Bluegrass in the summer months

And I wish that we’d have had more beers

But now you won’t return.

 

But maybe someday we’ll meet again.

Maybe someday we’ll see

I wish I knew a lot of things

About both you and me.

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