LAST CALL IN BUTTE, MONTANA

Tonight I rolled into Butte, Montana.
Beating the M&M Bar’s last call.

Gram Parsons on the jukebox.
“Streets of Baltimore.”
Mona loved that song
And I never done her wrong___

Last week in Bozeman, Montana
I woke to an empty bed
No sign of Mona. Only a burning egg
And a note saying
Don’t follow her,
Because she never liked this town___

So it’s last call in Butte, Montana
One whiskey, one beer
And still no sign on Mona
But I keep seeing her here___

She wasn’t in Lakeside or Malta,
Not a trace in Helena or Great Falls too.
So I drove west on I-90
I always knew where she had gone___

Last call in Butte, Montana
Holding hands with a can of beer
And still no sign of Mona,
But I keep seeing her here___

Mona loved the lights at the M&M.
She loved the cowboys too.
The bartender looked at her photo.
Said, “Two night ago she came through.”
She hadn’t said where she was going,
Because this was where she’d gone___

Last call in Butte, Montana.
Holding hands with a can of beer
And still no sign of Mona,
But I keep seeing her here___

I nodded my head and left the M&M.
The bartender was happy to see me go.
Out on North Main Street
Rain coming down
Every drop hitting my face
Making me feel like a clown___

High heels on the sidewalk
I know that sound.
Mona in high heels
Coming here
To save me from all my fears
Especially if Butte, Montana
'cause we both loved it here.

THE STREETS OF BALTIMORE by Graham Parsons