I think about that day I left him at a Greyhound station West of Sante Fe We were seventeen, but he was sweet and it was true Still I did what I had to do 'Cuz I just knew Summer Sunday nights We'd sink into our seats Right as they dimmed out all the lights The Technicolor world made out of music and machine It called me to be on that screen And live inside its sheen Without a nickel to my name ..