Songtext von Backseat

You were hiding in the backseat of my Lincoln Underneath a blanket with your head against the door And I was already halfway through Ohio When I heard your soft voice singing to a song on the radio I crept out in the darkness of the morning Past our sleeping father, a cold cigar lying at his feet He was surrounded by his books down in the parlor Filled with all the words that he had wanted us to read and know But this is not an old American story About the rugged men who came out from the east And I am not some outlaw from the Badlands Or a gambler running tables in New Orleans So I put you on a bus back to Boston With some money in your shoe for a meal And I turn my car in the other direction Just hoping that I hear a note from the backseat