When I look South and see the storm clouds roll, on their way to old Mexico, I don’t wanna be alone. And the rays of light through my Shiner Bock bottle make me wanna turn the key and put down the throttle and get lost down 35. When I get too tied down by the ties that bind, seems like I’m never going to find the time to do what I need: that’s to find me a place where I can think, talk about love, and laugh and drank and there’s someone there who cares. Cause no matter how big the storms, I know I can find me a place that’s warm: the sun is shinning somewhere in Texas. I hope its shinning on her, somewhere down in Texas.