They've met at Kelly's Diner,
for a morning cup of coffee,
every day but Sunday,
for nigh' on fifteen years.

And once in a blue moon,
they stop in at Lucky's Tavern,
to shoot the breeze and
hoist a round of beers.

They talk about the weather,
and the last time they went fishing,
and lie about the ones
that got away.

Lingering in the parking lot,
they trade bits of information,
with anyone who'll pass
the time of day.

Jessie says he's heard from his son
in Oklahoma, thinks maybe
he'll go see him in the fall.

He forgot to mention
he hadn't been invited, and
he had been the one
who'd made the call.

Willie thinks his daughter
may come home for Christmas,
wonders if he ought
to get a tree,

He has a little money saved
to buy her something pretty,
but he ain't made up his mind
what it will be.

Charlie, he just listens,
cause he ain't got nobody,
since Molly died,
it's just been him and Mac.

Dogs ain't much on conversations,
and though he often talks to Molly,
its not the same when
someone don't talk back.

Willie wipes his face with a faded,
old bandana, complains
his left knee's giving him a fit.

Charlie's feeling poorly too,
says he'll see them later,
thinks he may go home
and rest a bit.

Just three lonely people,
running out of time,
Willie, Jess, and Charlie,
What's in a name?

When you're heading down the back stretch
out of control,
life's a one way ticket on
a runaway train.