Jeffrey Foucault - Mesa arizona

^GAll alone ^Emin a Mexican joint ^CIn Mesa, Ar^Gizona

^EmOn the jukebox ^CAnd an empty Cor^Gona

^EmIn the pale thin pink There’s ^Cno one to talk to ^AmAll I can think Is your ^Geyes are full of train smoke And your ^Emmouth tastes like rain And I ^Cknow when I know nothing I will ^Amalways know your name You’re my ^Gone and only ^Emone You’re my only ^Cone

^GOut here working ^EmIn the neon lights ^CWhere the temperature is ^Gfalling

^EmRed-eye flights and ^CHoney I’m your midnight ringer ^Gcalling

^EmFrom this desert sky And I tell ^Ceverybody something But it’s ^Amusually good-bye But not ^Gyou, you’re my ^Emone You’re my only ^Cone

You're the ^Gone I want to talk to You're the ^Emone I know to call You're the ^Cone who’s going to catch me When my ^Ampride leads to a fall You’re the ^Fsky all full of starlings And an a^Cx blade shining in the ^Gsun You’re the ^Fangel touched a coal Against my ^Clips You’re my only ^Gone

^GReel to reel ^EmThe country rolls And the ^Ctowns slide by Like ghost ^Grepeaters Of faded billboards ^Emand big-box stores ^CLike a movie of an empty ^Gtheater

When the ^Emseams are going to fail And how ^Cdear the cost of living Where ^Ameverything’s for sale Except ^Gyou you’re my ^Emone You’re my only ^Cone You're my ^Gone and only ^Emone You’re my only ^Cone

^GAnd I’m all alone ^EmIn a Mexican joint ^CIn Mesa, Ari^Gzona ^{Em C G}

^G(r^Emepe^Cat^G/fade)