She parks on the ridge where the tall grass sways Old turquoise truck, sun-faded and brave Red hair lit like a copper flame Strumming chords she never learned by name She’s got six strings and four worn tires Heart full of songs and roadside desires License plate reads HER 201 She’s chasing the moon, not anyone Gas-station coffee and boots full of dust She trusts in her chords more than she trusts love Fender’s cracked, but her voice is clean Telling stories with twang and gasoline Between Amarillo and fate She rolls down the window and rewrites the state She ain't looking back, she's painting the air With melodies stitched from midnight and prayer She’s got six strings and four worn tires Heart full of flame and backroad choirs License plate reads HER 201 A girl, a guitar, her truck, and the sun
