Written by Marty Stuart
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At a red hot truck stop with a dirt floor parking lot
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A waitress named Shirley
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Poured him some coffee and she said
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"Hello stranger where're you going?
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I see the dust of where you've been
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Seems like the fire of trouble
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Claims you like the next of kin
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You look as new as tomorrow
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And the old as where you're from
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If I've got it right and I think I might
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I believe that you're a Pilgrim"
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Truckstop
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| Stuart Marty |
