Three years gone. Another tank of gas. Same face in the mirror. My brother had a CB radio, And a laugh that shook the dash. We'd split a gas-station biscuit, He always let me have the last. He was twenty-three when they called me. I was two states and a locked door away. They buried him on a Tuesday. I got the news on Wednesday. There's a tear drop tattoo, And a road I ain't been down. They see the mark, think they know What kind of man is leaving town. I can't change what that mirror shows, Can't bring back who's gone. That tear drop in the rearview But the road keeps rolling on. A kid at the pump asked what it meant. Had a hard look he couldn't wear. I saw my brother in his nervous grin, And the trouble waiting there. I said, “Son, don't make one bad night The only story that you tell.” He looked down, paid for his gas. I wished somebody'd told me as well. There's a tear drop tattoo, And a road I ain't been down. They see the mark, think they know What kind of man is leaving town. I can't change what that mirror shows, Can't bring back who's gone. That tear drop in the rearview But the road keeps rolling on. My brother's still gone. The ink's still blue. I put it in gear And watched the town disappear.
