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letra de kokomo - greg brown

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there’s a tenderloin special at the sak ‘n’ save, the sky is a dirty sock.
i left my hat at the laundromat, met an old guy walking round the block.
i asked him how to get out of town, he said “how far you wanna go?”
i said “i was thinking of arkansas,” he said “you’d be better off in kokomo”

with a payday loan and a migraine i crossed contrary creek,
looking for a gal that i knew as sal, we were married once for a week.
i found her way back in the woods, all her secrets hidden under the snow.
she pointed my way with a 28 gauge on the road to kokomo.

amelia earhart lived here, but she didn’t stick around too long.
she crossed that bridge on just two wheels and, by god, she was gone.
i stayed too long in kansas trying to tell a “yes” from a “no” –
but she wouldn’t say and i am on my way on the road to kokomo.

come all you brave young cowboys and get into software.
why be a roustabout now when you could be a millionaire?
the grain elevator is leaning, the trucks are rolling slow.
get out of hock, so long red rock, h-llo kokomo.

you know she was just my type: deranged, middle-aged, and crude,
nipples the size of jack b-lls, and a real bad att-tude.
she wore my -ss out so d-mn fast, left me nowhere to go,
with a sticky wicket and a greyhound ticket, one-way to kokomo.

oh, these michigan women, they know me much too well,
they take me high and they leave me low, they can find me by my smell.
and i would still be up in the u p, sitting by the fire’s glow
if she hadn’t whipped off her tubetop and run me down to kokomo.

dig my grave with a bobcat, and throw in a couple of spuds.
-sses to -sses, b-tts to b-tts, red blood to red mud.
p-ss around a bottle of jim beam, play something on the banjo.
if anybody asks you where i’ve gone, just tell ’em “to kokomo.”

- greg brown

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