Lineman

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[Intro (distant rain and wind, fingerpicked acoustic and soft pedal steel)]

[Verse 1 (hushed, conversational, acoustic and pedal steel)]
Phone would ring 'fore daylight when the radar turned red,
Daddy'd be in his boots 'fore Mama raised her head.
Duffel bag by the back door, packed from June on through,
Climbin' hooks and rain gear and my school picture too.
He'd kiss Mama at the sink, rub my head, and say, "Be good,"
Then that bucket truck'd back out, amber lights across the neighborhood.
Mama kept a map on the fridge with a red thumbtack,
Movin' it town to town till the night that he came back.

[Chorus (full band, big drums, stacked harmonies on the counting line)]
Weatherman counts 'em by the wind and the rain,
By the category number and the pretty little name,
But we counted every storm by how long Daddy's gone...
(Twelve days, Carolina)
Somewhere in the dark, he's bringin' somebody's lights back on.

[Verse 2 (drums pull back, driving but restrained)]
Sixteen hours on a pole, then a cot in some high school gym,
In a town he never saw by daylight, and it never once saw him.
He'd call on a borrowed phone, sound a thousand miles away,
Tell me 'bout some widow's pound cake and a street that clapped all day.
He missed my ninth birthday, missed my only home run,
And I hated all them strangers... every last one.

[Chorus (full band, bigger, stacked harmonies on the counting line)]
Weatherman counts 'em by the wind and the rain,
By the category number and the pretty little name,
But we counted every storm by how long Daddy's gone...
(Nineteen days, Texas)
Somewhere in the dark, he's bringin' somebody's lights back on.

[Verse 3 (tension builds, electric guitars low and gritty)]
Then the year I turned eleven, one came straight up our bay,
Took the steeple off the Baptist church and the pier clean away.
Daddy worked the substation just across the county line,
Close enough to see his truck, but home? Not one time.
They do the hospital first, then the water plant, then the main,
And the little streets like ours come last, in the heat after the rain.
Then on day nine, a line of bucket trucks came crawlin' down our road,
Ohio on the license plates, a long, long way from home.

[Bridge (stripped to voice and acoustic guitar)]
Some other kid's daddy climbed our pole in the hundred-degree heat,
And every porch on the block stood up and clapped out in the street.
And I thought about some boy up in Ohio, sittin' by the phone,
Hatin' me a little... countin' days his daddy's gone.

[Final Chorus (full band returns, soaring, then drops to lone acoustic)]
Weatherman counts 'em by the wind and the rain,
By the category number and the pretty little name,
But I count every storm by how long somebody's daddy's gone...
(Nine days, our own street)
Somewhere in the dark, a stranger brought our lights back on.

[Outro (lone acoustic, rain ambience returns)]
That night I took Mama's red thumbtack...
And I stuck it in Ohio.

[End]

2959/7500

[Intro (distant rain and wind, fingerpicked acoustic and soft pedal steel)] [Verse 1 (hushed, conversational, acoustic and pedal steel)] Phone would ring 'fore daylight when the radar turned red, Daddy'd be in his boots 'fore Mama raised her head. Duffel bag by the back door, packed from June on through, Climbin' hooks and rain gear and my school picture too. He'd kiss Mama at the sink, rub my head, and say, "Be good," Then that bucket truck'd back out, amber lights across the neighborhood. Mama kept a map on the fridge with a red thumbtack, Movin' it town to town till the night that he came back. [Chorus (full band, big drums, stacked harmonies on the counting line)] Weatherman counts 'em by the wind and the rain, By the category number and the pretty little name, But we counted every storm by how long Daddy's gone... (Twelve days, Carolina) Somewhere in the dark, he's bringin' somebody's lights back on. [Verse 2 (drums pull back, driving but restrained)] Sixteen hours on a pole, then a cot in some high school gym, In a town he never saw by daylight, and it never once saw him. He'd call on a borrowed phone, sound a thousand miles away, Tell me 'bout some widow's pound cake and a street that clapped all day. He missed my ninth birthday, missed my only home run, And I hated all them strangers... every last one. [Chorus (full band, bigger, stacked harmonies on the counting line)] Weatherman counts 'em by the wind and the rain, By the category number and the pretty little name, But we counted every storm by how long Daddy's gone... (Nineteen days, Texas) Somewhere in the dark, he's bringin' somebody's lights back on. [Verse 3 (tension builds, electric guitars low and gritty)] Then the year I turned eleven, one came straight up our bay, Took the steeple off the Baptist church and the pier clean away. Daddy worked the substation just across the county line, Close enough to see his truck, but home? Not one time. They do the hospital first, then the water plant, then the main, And the little streets like ours come last, in the heat after the rain. Then on day nine, a line of bucket trucks came crawlin' down our road, Ohio on the license plates, a long, long way from home. [Bridge (stripped to voice and acoustic guitar)] Some other kid's daddy climbed our pole in the hundred-degree heat, And every porch on the block stood up and clapped out in the street. And I thought about some boy up in Ohio, sittin' by the phone, Hatin' me a little... countin' days his daddy's gone. [Final Chorus (full band returns, soaring, then drops to lone acoustic)] Weatherman counts 'em by the wind and the rain, By the category number and the pretty little name, But I count every storm by how long somebody's daddy's gone... (Nine days, our own street) Somewhere in the dark, a stranger brought our lights back on. [Outro (lone acoustic, rain ambience returns)] That night I took Mama's red thumbtack... And I stuck it in Ohio. [End]

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