i dreamt gene hackman was my brother

70 miles
Outside of grand junction
2:45 in the morning
I'm driving us home
From a weekend in Boise
You're leaving tomorrow
For Arizona
And I'm too much of a coward to say
I wish that you'd stay
That despite living off of $8 an hour
I always have a 10 in my pocket
In case you ask me to buy you smokes
And I never told you but the weight of my despair is lifted
When I look into your eyes
And as I fight to stay awake
I long to have your hand in mine

And I look around at
The empty desert, empty skies
And all I see is darkness
Boundless and unforgiving
As with every passing minute
We grow closer to the end
I pull into your driveway
And I never see you again