GRAPES ON THE VINE
(Steve Gillette and Charles John Quarto)

The are songs that birds don't sing to people
Secrets that keep right through to the end.
There are heroes that hide until forever
And I'm singin' this song for one of them.

He's the man that you passed on the road there.
The one with his life on the loose.
Goin' either somewhere or nowhere,
Goin' without me without you.

For he is this world's constant orphan
Travellin' out his long time,
Livin' on apples from orchards
And dyin' from grapes on the vine.

You can find him in big city winters
Down where the mission bell cries.
And the sorrow echoes through summers
As he tries to close all his eyes.

And dream of his railroa existence
As if it were some kind of dream.
As if the extent of the distance
Were what his heart would call him.

You can find him in Pittsburgh at Christmas,
You can find him in Buffalo in June.
And he knows all the back roads between them
Like a gypsy knows the moon.

And it's route twenty-two all over again
Put your thumb out and try to look like somebody's friend

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