Eli fletcher was a fine fine man
Born to a woman who was fine as sand
In the mountains on a Blue Ridge Breeze,
He grew up beneath the dogwood trees.
A high school hero of the football team,
He stuck around for his brunette dream.
His shoulders broad & his cheekbones high,
He made you feel he could kiss the sky.
One Sunday night I found him in town,
Drunk on whiskey and his own renown,
Telling tales of glory days,
Of good ol’ boys & their good ol’ ways.
We sate for hours and chewed the fat
Growing older where our fathers sat.
& after a while, he gave his chin a stroke,
And said “my friends I need a pack of smokes.”
What a man he could’ve been.
What a man he could’ve been.
So out the door into the frosty night,
Eli went for his Camel Lights.
I followed suit to take his keys,
Saying “hey man, you’re way drunker than me.”
He waved me off and said “I’m fine.”
So we piled in and drove down the line.
And for a Sunday night, things were looking up,
Then I turned my head and saw the semi truck.
& what a scene we must’ve been,
Our Ford flipping like a bowling pin.
Tumbling through the frozen night,
Poor Eli took a mighty flight.
When I woke up with stars below my feet,
I spotted Fletcher a ways down the street,
& I started praying to our good lord
Cause he must’ve flown a hundred yards or more.
What a man he could’ve been.
What a man he could’ve been.
Now I wasn’t there but from what I heard,
The town lost faith in their holy word,
Their golden son had been struck down,
What was left of him, they put in the ground.
And at the site of our untimely crash
Our names remembered on a little plaque.
The good ol’ boys tried to move on,
Though the best of them was now long gone.
The plaque still sits, just two years past,
Eli’s memory will forever last
But no one speaks or seems to think
Of Fletcher’s end or his charming winks.
And I must confess I somehow feel
That dusty stone is much more real
Than the idol sign and what it means
To be a legend or a king of queens.
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