John Prine Donald and Lydia From: Patrick Corbett (patrick.corbett@reuters.com) Thanks to Patrick Small town, bright lights, Saturday night Pinball and pool halls flashing their lights Making change behind the counter in the penny arcade Sat the fat girl daughter of Virgina and Ray Lydia Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat Behind her small eyes sunk deep in her fat She read romance magazines up in her room It made it feel like Sunday on a Saturday afternoon Chorus But dreaming just comes natural, like the first breath of a baby Like sunshine feeding daisies, like the love hidden deep in your heart Bunk beds, shaved heads, Saturday night A warehouse of strangers in 60 watt light Staring through the ceiling, just wanting to be Lay a one of too many, young PFC Donald There were spaces between Donald and the things that he said Strangers had forced him to live in his head He envisioned the details of romantic scenes In the late midnight stillness of the barracks latrine Chorus Love Hot love cold love, not love at all A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall Nothing is wrong anf nothing is right Donald and Lydia made love that light The made love in the mountains, they mode love in the streams They made love in the valleys they made love in their dreams But when they were finished they had nothing to say Cause mostly they made love from 10 miles away Chorus