| Well it’s two eggs up on whiskey toast
|
| And home fries on the side
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| Wash it down with the road house coffee
|
| Burns up your insides
|
| Just a Canyon-Colorado Diner
|
| And a waitress I did love
|
| I sat in the back neath an old stuffed bear
|
| And a worn out Navajo rug
|
| Well Old Jack, the boss, he left at six
|
| And it’s Katie bar the door
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| She’d pull down that Navajo rug
|
| And she’d spread it across the floor
|
| Hey, I saw lightning cross the sacred mountains
|
| Saw woven turtle doves
|
| I was sittin' next to Katie
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| On that old Navajo rug
|
| Aye, Aye, Aye, Katie
|
| Shades of red and blue
|
| Aye, Aye, Aye, Katie
|
| Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you
|
| Katie, shades of red and blue
|
| Well I saw old Jack about a year ago
|
| He said the place burned to the ground
|
| And all I saved was this old bear tooth
|
| And Katie, she’s left town
|
| Oh, but Katie, she got her souvenir too
|
| Jack spat a tobacco plug
|
| Well you should have seen her a-coming through the smoke
|
| Draggin' that Navajo rug
|
| Aye, Aye, Aye, Katie
|
| Shades of red and blue
|
| Aye, Aye, Aye, Katie |
| Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you
|
| Katie, shades of red and blue
|
| So every time I cross the sacred mountains
|
| And lightning breaks above
|
| It always takes me back in time
|
| To my long lost Katie love
|
| But everything keeps on a-moving
|
| Yeah, everybody’s on the go
|
| You don’t find things that last anymore
|
| Like an old woven Navajo
|
| Aye, Aye, Aye, Katie
|
| Shades of red and blue
|
| Aye, Aye, Aye, Katie
|
| Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you
|
| Katie, shades of red and blue |