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You Know How You Need Somebody

Written around 1974, loosely based on a bus ride to Indianapolis sitting next to a Marine, heading to Columbus to see Karl play with his band at a Smuggler’s Inn

One evenin’ feelin’ kinda low,
I took the bus to Ohio;
To see my brother play in a band at a Holiday Inn;
And I asked to sit next to this man,
And he winked and said, “Sure you can,”
I took the window seat, and I settled down next to him.

He said he was an ex-Marine, the saddest one I’d ever seen,
And he was goin’ home to see his Zanesville girl;
And ridin’ through Indiana corn, he said he felt so torn,
Between lovin’ her and goin’ back to L.A. He said . . .


“She don’t exactly treat me right/
He don’t exactly treat me right, or
We treated each other right
But/’cause sometimes very late at night,
You know how you need somebody,
You know how you need somebody.”

And I said I was a secretary,
And I never would get married;
And I shared the peaches that I brought along for the ride;
And feelin’ outta danger, I said a think I’d only tell a stranger,
How a man can lie, but you never want to leave his side. Because . . .


And he said if we lived on that farm,
He’d take me in his arms;
And we’d run through the corn to the house when the sun went down;
And ridin’ on the bus that night,
We treated each other right;
But those evenin’ dreams soon disappeared without a sound. You know . . .


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