Divorce and the American South

Hey, Dianne, could you pick up the phone? Oh, I know that you're listening Baby, I know that you're home And I know where I went wrong Don't you leave me alone Could you pick up the phone? Oh, I'm lost at a truck stop somewhere in the South I don't know where I'm going, but I'm figuring it out Locked myself in this phone booth; Read you the number aloud Now I'm waiting it out [Chorus] Well, if I lay here long enough Maybe the bugs would eat me whole And if I stay here long enough Maybe the night would take me home I won't let go, even if you say so No, I won't let go Oh, hey, Dianne, I've been trying to quit I went from a pack and a half a day To this e-cigarette bullshit It don't give me what I want But it stops them coughing fits Oh, I know how you hate it And hey, Dianne, I know I fucked up It's just when we lost the baby, I kind of shut off And I know I never listened I wasn't there for you enough I'm a fuck up [Chorus] I had a dream that I, I flew back North And the plane went down before we hit New York You didn't come to the funeral I hope you'd come to the funeral Hey, Dianne