Brewton Alabama at The Colonial Inn, 
hot day, old orange juice, some vodka on a night stand, 
there's a Chevy Nova with the seat burned out the back, 
from a Winston cigarette, that was stumped into the wind 

old Bobby Long was like Zorba the Greek, 
Side-tracked by the scent of a woman, 
Could've been an actor on a moviescreen 
Stayed in Alabama just a dreamer of dreams 

He played football against W.S. Neal
should've seen [bad word] down the field 
I grow old, I grow old where the bottoms of my 
trousers rolled 
it's a love song, for Bobby Long 
love song, for Bobby Long 

 (2x) 

he was a handsome man, he had Cherokee cheeckbones 
a fair haired boy, where did he go wrong, 
he chose a roadless travel, made all the difference, 

now he’s chastisezed, critisiezed he don't make no sense 
Brewton called him crazy, he said Bobby Long was nothing but a [bad word]  
but all the thoughts in his head was way passed anything they duwmb funk 
it's a love song, for Bobby Long 
a love song, for Bobby Long 

but don't get me wrong, Bobby Long was no good, 
he'd drag you down, if he thought he could 
well he would drag you down, 
the road I ride will be the day for me 
 [bad word] along 
the road I ride is gonna set me free 
he’s gonna take me home 

he was a friend of my papa's he used to drink and tell lies 
praised Flannery O'Connors, smoked cigarettes and filosophied 
so here I am at The Colonial Inn 
me and Captain Long and my pretty girl-friend 
he charmes her with a poem, then he brakes down and cries 
smile a crooked smile, with his broken cheeck-bone side 
tells about his life, now he's 63, 
he looks me in the eyes, he [bad word] and go with me 
he could walk on water, walk on water 
but you know you drown themselves and wine 
god and a devil, god and a devil, 
god and a devil along inside his mind 
it's a love song, for Bobby Long 
a love song, for Bobby Long