She came on up from Waycross, yeah
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From a whiskey swamp and a vagabond clan
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With her tune in her bucket and her head held high
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And a book about her grandpa flying the skies
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She said, man, it ain't never gonna be the same
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You know I'll give 'em a chance but no one can play like Duane
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Now it was back in the fall of '71
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Duane met a flatbed coming home
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With his song in the charts and his Harley flying through the air
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Now he was just hitting his stride when the angels wept
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They said, man, it ain't never gonna be the same
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You know we'll give 'em a chance but no one can play like Duane
|
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We lose the best, we lose the rest, we lose it all along the way
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We learn to dig down deep, wipe our hands, and walk away from the grave
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She said, now, I got a hole that just won't fix
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As deep as a sky that won't be lit
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The span of a wing that just won't fly
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And I been carrying this tune since the angels cried
|
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She said, man, it ain't never gonna be the same
|
You know I'll give 'em a chance but no one can play like Duane
|
|
Man, it ain't never gonna be the same
|
You know I'll give 'em a chance but no one can play like Duane
|
|
-----------------
|
Duane Allman
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| Amy Ray |
