So long
so long
I’ve got to be drifting
The dust storm blew
It hit
like thunder
In the month called Gray
I walked down
to the grocery store
it was crowded
One pound of butter
for two pounds of gold
Kind friend, kind friend,
I’ve got to be drifting
I’ll sing it again
drifting along
so long, it’s been good
so long
The old dust storm
blowed
So black
so black
The telephone rang
And rang and rang
and rang and rang
and rang
—Gary Lindorff