We all drifted away with the days getting shorter
Seeking our place in the greater scheme
Kids and careers and a vague sense of order
Busting apart at the seams
I heard you switched coasts, moved in with your sister
I doubt you'd have called it familial bliss
We met up in Brooklyn before it went hipster
You carried your keys in your fist
In a way back corner of a cross-town bus
We were hiding out under my hat
Cashing in on a thirty-year crush
You can't be young and do that
You can't be young and do that

Take my hand Marie
Take a death grip on some part of me
Keep me from drifting far out to sea
Or I'll be lost out there
I'll be lost out there

James McMurtry, Canola Field