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Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard give us a dead bandit, a survivor heading for Ohio, and some suspiciously unexplained travel money. I don’t need a signed confession to understand why people think Lefty sold Pancho out.

That’s the strongest reading of the song, but it remains an implication. Nobody describes the deal. And just when we’re ready to blame Lefty, the ending asks us to feel sorry for him.

That’s a harder request than it first sounds.

What Is Pancho and Lefty About?

The song follows two connected lives with very different endings.

Pancho becomes the dead outlaw people remember. Lefty survives, leaves for Ohio, and eventually grows old in cheap accommodations in Cleveland.

Survival should make Lefty the lucky one.

By the end, I’m not sure he looks especially lucky. He has escaped the immediate danger, but the story gives him little comfort, little glory, and no clean break from Pancho.

My reading is that the song weighs what it costs to survive, especially if survival involved betraying someone.

It also questions the stories people tell afterward. The authorities have their explanation. The poets have Pancho’s legend. Lefty never gives us a clear account of his own.

Did Lefty Sell Pancho Out?

Probably, if we’re choosing the explanation that best connects the clues.

The case against him rests on three details.

He leaves when Pancho dies

The song places Lefty’s departure alongside Pancho’s death. That timing makes the two events feel connected.

It doesn’t tell us that Lefty had already planned a move or was leaving for an unrelated reason. The departure arrives as part of the same troubling piece of news.

He has money nobody explains

The narrator specifically raises the question of how Lefty paid to leave.

That’s the detail I’d circle.

A travel expense isn’t automatically suspicious. But a songwriter choosing to make it an unanswered question gives us a reason to pay attention.

The ending offers an excuse for him

Later, the narrator suggests Lefty acted out of necessity.

That sounds like there is something to explain or forgive. Beside the timing and the money, it makes betrayal a convincing possibility.

Still, the song never shows an officer paying Lefty or describes what information he provided.

The clues point toward a deal. The deal itself stays offstage.

Did Lefty Actually Kill Pancho?

The song doesn’t establish that Lefty personally killed him.

Betraying someone and carrying out the killing are different actions. Lefty could have cooperated with the authorities without being the person who caused the final injury.

I’d be careful about adding a gunfight between the men. The words don’t give us that scene.

They also don’t provide a complete account of Pancho’s capture and death. We learn the outcome without witnessing exactly how it happened.

That absence makes the money more interesting. We’re trying to understand the event through what happened around it, especially what the surviving man did next.

Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard Made the Hit

If you know this as a Willie Nelson song, you’re thinking of the famous duet with Merle Haggard.

Their version became a No. 1 country hit in 1983 and the title track of their Pancho & Lefty album.

Townes Van Zandt wrote it. He had already released his own recording in 1972.

I’d keep all three names in the conversation because they answer different questions. Willie and Merle made the hit many listeners know. Townes created the characters and the unanswered questions they’re singing about.

The album notes for Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard’s recording recount Willie’s daughter Lana recommending the song while they were working together.

That recommendation brought an existing composition into their project. It wasn’t a story they wrote about their own friendship.

Why Does Pancho’s Death End Up in Lefty’s Mouth?

The song connects the dust of Pancho’s death with Lefty’s mouth and his diminished ability to sing the blues.

That’s a nasty image in a useful way.

Dust gets between your teeth. It dries your mouth. You can move somewhere else and still feel it there.

I read it primarily as guilt, especially when I put it beside the unexplained money. Something about Pancho’s death has become part of Lefty’s everyday life.

But grief belongs in that reading, too.

The song doesn’t tell us Lefty feels nothing for Pancho. Betrayal and affection can exist in the same person, which would make the aftermath worse.

His lost ability to sing could suggest that the old life is no longer available to him. Whatever he once expressed freely now catches in his throat.

That’s interpretation, rather than a medical explanation or proof of exactly what he did.

Why Ohio and Why Cleveland?

The song doesn’t give Lefty a practical reason for choosing Ohio.

There’s no named job, family member, or waiting friend. We simply find that he has gone there and that the years haven’t treated him especially well.

I think the setting works through contrast.

Pancho gets the outlaw landscape

He belongs to the horse, the gun, the Mexican desert, and the story people keep telling.

His life has the ingredients of a legend, even though its ending is terrible.

Lefty gets the years afterward

Cleveland is cold. His accommodations are cheap. He’s aging.

There’s no grand adventure left in that picture.

That’s why I wouldn’t search for a secret meaning in the state name. Ohio gives Lefty somewhere far from Pancho’s death, but the distance doesn’t produce the fresh start we might expect.

He’s out of the desert. He’s still in the story.

What Are the Federales Saying?

The federales are the Mexican federal authorities in the song’s setting.

They claim they could have caught their man whenever they wanted. Their explanation for his freedom is kindness.

I’m suspicious of that account.

An outlaw repeatedly escaping the authorities can make those authorities look ineffective. Saying they allowed it turns a possible failure into a decision.

Convenient.

The narrator doesn’t fully endorse the explanation, either. The qualification “out of kindness, I suppose” leaves room for doubt.

That little hesitation matters more to me than any theory about a specific police arrangement.

We’re hearing the version officials repeat, with a voice beside it that doesn’t sound completely persuaded.

Why Do the Authorities Keep Repeating Themselves?

The claim returns while the song moves through Pancho’s death and Lefty’s later life.

By the end, even the surviving authorities are growing old.

I read the repetition as part of the song’s interest in how stories harden over time. People can repeat an explanation until it sounds settled without ever supplying much evidence.

Pancho can’t correct them. Lefty doesn’t explain himself.

The official account is still available, polished by repetition.

That doesn’t prove every word of it is false. It does make me question whether their certainty deserves more trust than Lefty’s unexplained money.

The song has several people who seem to know more than they’re saying.

Who Is the Narrator Talking To?

The opening addresses an unnamed person whose life on the road hasn’t delivered the freedom it seemed to promise.

It’s tempting to identify that person confidently, but the song doesn’t hand us a label.

Lefty is a plausible reading. The larger story certainly gives us a survivor whose life has become worn down.

I’d still leave some room around that identification.

The opening can also work as a warning that prepares us for both men: leaving home and living outside ordinary expectations may sound freeing, but the consequences can follow for years.

What interests me is how quickly the promise of freedom becomes a picture of damage.

Before we’ve sorted out Pancho, Lefty, or the money, the song has already made life on the road look expensive in ways that have nothing to do with travel costs.

Why Should We Feel Sorry for Lefty?

The ending asks that some prayers be saved for him.

That’s the request I find hardest to dismiss.

If Lefty did betray Pancho, sympathy can feel undeserved. Pancho is the one who died. Why should the survivor get our concern?

Because the song asks us to look at the rest of his life.

Compassion doesn’t have to mean innocence.

I can believe Lefty made a terrible choice and still recognize the misery in what follows. Feeling sorry for him doesn’t require pretending the choice never happened.

That’s also why I wouldn’t treat the suggestion that he acted out of necessity as a complete defense. We aren’t told enough about his circumstances to judge how much choice he had.

It might be a fair explanation. It might be an excuse. The song leaves us with both possibilities.

Is Pancho and Lefty Based on Pancho Villa?

It isn’t established as a factual account of Pancho Villa’s life.

The name and Mexican outlaw setting make the connection understandable, but Van Zandt pushed back against treating his character as Villa.

In the interview comments quoted by American Songwriter, he described the song as arriving unexpectedly and said he had understood that it wasn’t about Villa.

I wouldn’t override that with a confident claim that we’ve identified the real men.

The song sounds as though it has a history behind it. That’s different from having a documented historical event behind it.

We can discuss the characters’ choices without assigning them identities the evidence doesn’t support.

When Did Townes Van Zandt Write It?

The song was released on The Late Great Townes Van Zandt in 1972, more than a decade before Willie and Merle’s hit.

Van Zandt later told an audience that he wrote it while staying outside Dallas in a place with very little to do.

In an account of his concert introduction preserved by American Songwriter, he described sitting down and refusing to move until he had written a song.

Several hours later, he had this one.

I like the tension in that account. He deliberately made himself work, but he also described the result as something that seemed to come to him.

That doesn’t tell us he had a secret answer sheet explaining every character.

A writer can create a convincing chain of suggestions without mapping every unseen event. Here, the gaps give us something to weigh against the details that remain.

Where Does Emmylou Harris Fit In?

Emmylou Harris recorded “Pancho and Lefty” on Luxury Liner before the Nelson and Haggard duet.

That makes the recording history broader than a direct jump from Townes to Willie.

I’d keep the sequence simple: Van Zandt wrote and released the song, Harris recorded it, and Nelson and Haggard later made their major hit.

You don’t need to rank the performances to understand that history.

Different singers can bring the same unresolved story to listeners who haven’t heard the earlier versions. The writing credit stays the same, even when a later recording becomes the one people immediately recognize.

What Does the Ending Actually Settle?

It settles where the men end up.

Pancho is dead. Lefty is alive and growing old. The authorities still have their account of what happened.

It doesn’t settle the moral argument.

That’s why I find the song more interesting than a straightforward story about a treacherous partner getting punished. Lefty isn’t publicly exposed, and the narrator doesn’t deliver a verdict.

Instead, we’re asked to judge a man from incomplete evidence and then consider whether judgment is enough.

There’s a similar discomfort in how Rock Salt and Nails lets us understand someone without accepting his whole account. Sympathy and trust don’t always travel together.

Here, I’m inclined to believe Lefty sold Pancho out. I’m much less certain that condemning him explains everything worth noticing.

Did Lefty Get Away With It?

He got away from the immediate danger. That much seems clear.

Whether he got the life he wanted is another question.

I wouldn’t claim that every bad year afterward proves guilt or punishment. The song doesn’t give us that kind of certainty.

But it makes a point of showing us his unimpressive destination.

We never learn exactly where the travel money came from. We do learn what it bought: a way north, some more years, and a cheap place to grow old.

That’s a poor return if he paid for it with Pancho.

Miles Harlan is the country and Americana editorial byline at That Song Again, focused on song stories, overlooked details, and documented songwriter comments that help separate a convincing interpretation from an invented explanation.

“Fishin’ in the Dark” is about a romantic night outdoors, with fishing giving two people a reason to get away together. The narrator has a secluded spot picked out, plenty of time, and remarkably little concern about catching anything.

I’d call that a date with fishing equipment. The romantic suggestion is there in the song, and co-writer Jim Photoglo confirmed it. But reducing the whole thing to a dirty joke misses why the invitation works so well.

What Is Fishin’ in the Dark Really About?

The narrator wants to take someone he’s attracted to somewhere quiet by the water. He pictures an evening of being close, watching the sky, and letting the night take its time.

Fishing supplies the plan. Being together supplies the reason.

What I like about the setup is how little he needs to offer. He isn’t promising an expensive dinner or trying to impress anybody with a grand gesture. He knows a place, the weather is right, and he wants this person beside him.

That makes the invitation feel personal without turning it into a speech.

There’s also no complicated plot to untangle. Nobody disappears, no secret comes out in the last verse, and the ending doesn’t suddenly change everything. The interest is in what the narrator is proposing and how casually he manages to propose it.

The Fish Not Biting Gives Him Away

The most useful detail is his willingness to sit there even if the fishing goes nowhere.

If the point were bringing home supper, that would be a problem. For this man, it barely seems worth worrying about.

He already has the company he wanted.

That tells me more than the title alone does. You could take somebody fishing at night for perfectly practical reasons. Here, the narrator’s priorities make the romantic meaning clear.

The evening can succeed even if the fishing fails.

I think that’s the little joke holding the song together. He has arranged an outing where doing almost nothing still counts as having a very good time.

Is Fishin’ in the Dark About Sex?

Yes, there’s a sexual suggestion. The privacy, physical closeness, and prospect of staying together through the night make that reading reasonable.

Photoglo was direct about it. In a Billboard interview available on his official website, he called it “a seduction song.”

That settles whether listeners are imagining the flirtation. One of the people who wrote it said it was there.

Still, I wouldn’t try to translate every detail into a specific sexual act. The song doesn’t need that kind of decoding.

There’s a difference between understanding an invitation and treating the entire landscape like a collection of secret symbols. The river can be a river. The grass can be grass. Two people can actually go fishing while hoping the evening turns romantic.

That ordinary setting is part of what makes the suggestion appealing. He’s offering time together in a place where they can relax.

Is the Fishing Just an Excuse?

I’d say it gives him an opening, but the song doesn’t require us to believe the fishing is fake.

He can enjoy the activity and still care much more about who comes along.

Think about how many dates work that way. People suggest a walk, a drive, or a movie because an activity gives the evening somewhere to begin. The activity matters, but it also takes some pressure off the invitation.

Fishing does that job here.

The narrator doesn’t have to explain every romantic intention out loud. His choice of place and his willingness to stay make the point for him.

To me, that’s a better reading than deciding he has invented an elaborate scheme. Nothing in the song establishes that he’s fooling the other person. It reads more like an invitation whose meaning both people could understand.

Why the Summer Setting Matters

The song places the outing around the transition from spring into summer. The narrator has been waiting through winter for the right time to take this person along.

That gives the invitation a little anticipation.

He’s had the place in mind. Now the evenings are finally cooperating.

Photoglo also explained to Billboard that the writers wanted the feeling of a warm, humid Southern summer and the appeal of finding somewhere comfortable to cool off. The weather was part of their idea for the song.

That helps explain why the setting feels so complete. The water, evening air, insects, and open sky belong to the experience the narrator is offering.

I wouldn’t assign each one a hidden meaning. Together, they make his plan easy to picture.

There’s something convincing about wanting a particular person to see a place you like. You already know what makes it good. Half the pleasure is imagining them there with you.

That’s how I read his excitement.

Who Wrote Fishin’ in the Dark?

Wendy Waldman and Jim Photoglo wrote the song. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band made the familiar hit recording, but the songwriting credit belongs to those two writers.

Their contributions came together from different directions. Photoglo had music in progress, while Waldman brought the fishing idea.

In his Billboard account, Photoglo remembered developing the music at a Shoney’s Inn in Nashville. Waldman had been listening to A Prairie Home Companion before suggesting they write about fishing.

He wasn’t immediately sold.

I can understand that hesitation. A fishing song could turn into a novelty number pretty quickly, and he already cared about the music he had.

They worked on it anyway. The finished invitation gave the idea somewhere more interesting to go than a song focused mainly on the hobby.

What I find useful about that background is how ordinary the starting pieces were. Some music, a proposed subject, and two writers willing to see whether they belonged together.

When Was Fishin’ in the Dark Written?

The song took shape before the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s 1987 hit. There are several dates associated with its development and release, and they describe different things.

A reported account of Photoglo’s songwriting process traces the musical beginning to his Nashville visits in 1984. The Musicnotes song listing gives 1985 as its song date.

Year	What the date refers to
1984	The reported beginning of Photoglo’s musical idea during his Nashville visits.
1985	The song date listed by Musicnotes.
1986	Ed Bruce’s recording appeared on Night Things.
1987	The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band released its hit version on Hold On.

The published song information on Musicnotes lists both writers and the 1985 date.

I’d describe it as a mid-1980s composition rather than claim an exact writing day that these sources don’t establish.

The important distinction is that 1987 belongs to the Dirt Band’s breakthrough recording. The song already had a history by then.

Ed Bruce Recorded It Before the Dirt Band’s Hit

This is an easy detail to miss if the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s version is the only one you know.

Ed Bruce included “Fishin’ in the Dark” on his 1986 album Night Things. The album’s release information and track listing place that recording before the Dirt Band’s 1987 release.

That changes how I’d answer the question about who originally sang it.

The Dirt Band made the hit most people associate with the title. Bruce had already released a recording.

Those are different distinctions, and it’s worth keeping both. A song can become so closely tied to one performer that its earlier life almost disappears from the conversation.

I wouldn’t invent a story about why Bruce’s version didn’t become the defining hit. The release sequence tells us which came first. It doesn’t, by itself, explain every decision radio programmers or listeners made afterward.

How Did the Song Reach the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band?

Producer Josh Leo heard it at a party at Waldman’s home, according to Photoglo’s Billboard account. Leo wanted to bring it to the band.

That’s a more informal route than you might picture when you hear about a song being selected for an album.

The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s version appeared on Hold On in 1987, with Jimmy Ibbotson singing lead and Leo producing. It became a No. 1 country hit that year.

I like keeping the writers, singer, and producer separate here. They each had a different part in getting this particular recording to listeners.

The person telling the story on the record isn’t automatically the person who invented it. And the finished song existed before it became the band’s hit.

Did Garth Brooks Sing Fishin’ in the Dark Too?

Yes. Garth Brooks recorded it for The Lost Sessions in 2005 and again for his 2013 collection Blame It All on My Roots.

That can explain some of the confusion about the artist. If a later version is the one you know best, it’s natural to connect the title with that singer.

But Brooks didn’t write it, and his recordings came after the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s hit.

I’d resist ranking versions without discussing the actual performances. The useful point for understanding the song is that its central invitation survives a change of singer. A different artist can step into the narrator’s place without needing to change the basic situation.

Wendy Waldman Recorded Her Own Version

Waldman also returned to the song herself on My Time in the Desert.

In her own notes about recording the album, she describes choosing a slower, sexier treatment of “Fishin’ in the Dark.” Photoglo participated in that recording, too.

That’s an interesting detail because it shows one of the writers deliberately approaching the romantic side through a different recording choice.

It doesn’t mean the familiar version has been hiding a meaning only she could reveal. Photoglo’s description already makes the seduction clear.

What it does show is that a writer can revisit the same words and bring a different part of the invitation forward.

The setting stays recognizable. The way a performer presents it can change what you notice first.

Is It Based on a True Story or a Real Fishing Spot?

The songwriting accounts discussed here explain how the music and idea developed. They don’t establish that the song documents one specific date or identify a real location where the whole evening happened.

I wouldn’t attach a river name or a particular couple to it without better evidence.

The narrator’s confidence about the place makes it sound real within the song. He knows where he wants to go and why he wants to take someone there.

That’s effective writing, but specificity isn’t proof of autobiography.

A writer can build a convincing scene from familiar experiences, imagination, or a mixture of both. What we can verify here is the collaboration and the stated romantic intention, rather than the identity of a real couple on a documented outing.

Does It Have a Dirty Meaning as Slang?

In the context of this song, the title carries a romantic and sexual suggestion. That doesn’t mean every real-life mention of fishing after dark has the same meaning.

Context does the work.

If someone is discussing night-fishing equipment, the words probably mean exactly what they say. If someone is referencing this song while inviting a romantic partner somewhere private, the suggestion is easier to recognize.

I’d be cautious about replacing the song’s meaning with a narrow internet slang definition. You don’t need one to understand what the narrator wants.

His plan, his attention to the other person, and his indifference to the catch explain it naturally.

Why I Wouldn’t Treat the Whole Song as a Punch Line

Once you catch the suggestion, it can be tempting to reduce the song to one joke about what the couple will do after dark.

I think that leaves out some of the affection.

He wants this person’s company for the entire evening. The waiting, the familiar spot, and the willingness to sit around all matter to that invitation.

There’s no need for the trip to produce anything impressive. He isn’t making the other person responsible for keeping him entertained, either. Being there together is enough to make the outing appealing.

That’s the part I find most charming.

A fish biting would interrupt the conversation, require somebody to get up, and briefly turn this back into a fishing trip. I’m not sure our narrator would consider that an improvement.

Miles Harlan is the country and Americana editorial byline at That Song Again, focused on explaining song stories through specific details, documented songwriter comments, and a clear distinction between what a song says and what it leaves us to interpret.

The man in “Rock Salt and Nails” misses a woman, believes she lied to him, and can’t stop turning the relationship over in his head. Then he imagines women as animals he could hunt and names what he’d load into a shotgun.

Well, that changes the conversation.

I read the song as heartbreak curdling into revenge. But the detail that makes it worth a closer look comes from Utah Phillips, who wrote it. He eventually wanted nothing to do with singing those feelings back into the room.

He Misses Her and Wants Her to Hurt

There’s an unpleasant little contradiction at the center of this song. The narrator can still remember the woman affectionately, but he also wants her to carry the weight of what happened.

Those feelings can exist together. You can miss somebody and be furious with them. Sometimes the missing is exactly what keeps the anger going.

What I find convincing here is that he hasn’t neatly sorted her into someone he hates. The affectionate memory is still there, getting in the way of his attempt to dismiss her.

If he could decide she meant nothing, he might have an easier night.

Instead, he’s stuck with a person he wants to blame and a face he doesn’t want to forget. That’s a much messier place to be than simply declaring a relationship over.

The Biggest Claim He Makes Is About Her Conscience

He’s certain she feels guilty. That’s the detail I’d underline.

We know he remembers her because he’s telling us. What we don’t get is any independent reason to know she’s lying awake thinking about him.

Maybe she is. Maybe she knows exactly what she did.

But I can also read his certainty as a small piece of comfort he’s hanging on to. If she feels guilty, he still matters. She hasn’t walked away from the relationship without taking something unpleasant with her.

That would make the pain feel a little less one-sided.

To me, that’s more revealing than the accusation that she lied. He wants to believe the breakup follows her around, too.

The song leaves her offstage, so we can’t settle it. We’re left with a man who speaks confidently about her feelings while struggling badly with his own.

Even the Riverbank Has Become Evidence Against Her

The opening puts us beside a river, with birds and cold water. It could have been a nice place to remember somebody.

He remembers being lied to there.

I don’t think the trees and birds need an elaborate explanation. The important thing is what he’s done with the memory.

Once you believe someone deceived you, it’s easy to start going back through everything. A sentence that seemed harmless becomes suspicious. A good afternoon becomes the afternoon you should have figured it out.

You’re practically cross-examining your own past.

That’s how I read this scene. He can still picture the place, but he can’t enjoy the memory without dragging the accusation into it.

The relationship has ended. The argument is still going on in his head.

Then He Brings a Shotgun Into It

The title isn’t a pretty metaphor that needs decoding. In the final image, rock salt and nails are what the narrator imagines putting in his shotgun.

His comparison turns women into creatures he could hunt.

That’s an ugly thought, and I don’t see much value in dressing it up. The song has moved from remembering an injury to imagining inflicting one.

Still, it doesn’t describe him actually shooting anybody. The situation is hypothetical. Calling it a murder story would add an event that isn’t there.

I’d call it a revenge fantasy.

The change from one woman to women generally matters, too. His grievance has grown beyond the person he believes wronged him. By the end, he’s taking the hurt of one relationship and pointing it outward.

That’s what makes the last image feel so bitter. He hasn’t found an explanation that helps him. He’s found something cruel enough to express how he feels.

Why Would Utah Phillips Refuse to Sing His Own Song?

This is where the background earns its place.

In a 2004 interview archived by the University of Utah, Phillips recalled singing “Rock Salt and Nails” once in Rosalie Sorrels’ living room. She recorded it, and he credited her with saving the song from being lost.

He also explained his refusal to keep singing it. He called it an “angry, mean love song,” said he no longer felt that way, and didn’t want to be unkind to the woman, who was still alive.

I find that much more interesting than the usual story of a songwriter proudly explaining how a favorite song came together.

Phillips was willing to put some distance between himself and something he’d written. The song survived, but he didn’t want to keep renewing the grievance.

There’s a difference between admitting you once felt something and deciding that feeling deserves another public performance.

His explanation doesn’t tell us every detail of the relationship. It does tell us he had reconsidered what it meant to keep singing about her that way.

That gives the story an unexpected second ending, outside the song itself.

Was It About Something That Really Happened?

Phillips’ remarks support a connection to a real woman and real feelings. They don’t verify every accusation in the song.

I’d be comfortable calling it personally rooted. I wouldn’t turn it into a factual account of a breakup we can reconstruct from beginning to end.

We don’t have her version.

That missing perspective is worth remembering, especially with a song this angry. A person can describe their pain accurately while still giving an incomplete account of how they got there.

I’m interested in what the narrator reveals about himself. There’s plenty to work with before we start inventing facts about the woman.

Tyler Childers Is Singing Someone Else’s Song

If you came to “Rock Salt and Nails” through Tyler Childers, the writing credit might be the piece you were missing.

The credits accompanying Childers’ official recording name Bruce “Utah” Phillips as the songwriter. The track appears on Live On Red Barn Radio II, released in 2014.

That matters because it’s easy to attach a song’s story to the person whose version you know.

Phillips’ comments explain his relationship with the song. They don’t make the narrator’s history part of Childers’ life, and they don’t tell us Childers’ reason for choosing it.

For me, knowing who wrote it adds something especially useful here. The narrator is caught in a feeling that seems to have no exit. Phillips lived long enough to look back and say he didn’t feel that way anymore.

The song never gives its angry man that moment. Its writer found one for himself.

Author: David Moss – David has helped song artists write lyrics all across the United States.