| I was young and I was stupid--I had just turned seventeen
|
| I took my hits on a dumb road trip to Nashville, Tennessee
|
| I packed my antihistamines and tupperware drums
|
| A harmonica and a box guitar
|
| In a canvas covered wagon stuff with apples and with guns
|
| We quietly slipped across the border into Arkansas
|
| But still we couldn’t find what it was we were looking for
|
| So we trucked on down to try our luck along the Rio Grande
|
| But I couldn’t help but notice how
|
| The little things that used to make us happy made us sad
|
| But still I’m glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star
|
| I never would’ve got here if I’d followed my heart
|
| I didn’t think much of it 'til I took it apart
|
| I’m glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star
|
| We never ever made it down to Nashville in the end
|
| And no one ever signed our stupid country disco band
|
| However hard we tried it never seemed to be enough
|
| We never did get famous
|
| Still it made us kind of happy and it kept me off of drugs
|
| And now I’m glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star
|
| I never would’ve got here if I’d followed my heart
|
| I didn’t think much of it 'til I took it apart
|
| I’m glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star
|
| But still I’m glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star
|
| I’m happy if you’re happy but it breaks my heart
|
| I didn’t even notice it til it fell apart
|
| I’m glad I hitched my apple wagon to your star |