She came on up from Waycross yeah
From a whiskey swamp and a vagabond clan
With her tune in her bucket and her head held high
And a book about her grandpa flying the skies

She said, Man it ain't never gonna be the same
You know I'll give em a chance but
No one can play like Duane

Now it was back in the Fall of 71
Duane met a flatbed coming home
With his song in the charts and his Harley flying through the air
Now he was just hitting his stride when the angels wept

They said, Man it ain't never gonna be the same
You know we'll give em a chance but
No one can play like Duane

We lose the best, we lost the rest, we lose it all along the way
We learn to dig down deep, wipe our hands, and walk away from the grave

She said, Now, I got a hole that just won't fix
As deep as a sky that won't be lit
The span of a wing that just won't fly
And I been carrying this tune since the angels cried

She said, Man it ain't never gonna be the same
You know I'll give em a chance but
No one can play like Duane Writer/s: AMY ELIZABETH RAY
Publisher: Universal Music Publishing Group
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