From the recording Running on Smoke

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Running on Smoke

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I (Bob) started this song awhile ago, and then set it aside. The passing of my dear friend, Dave Hill, moved me to complete it. Dave died too soon and left a hole in the world's goodness fabric.
The last verse remembers a smoky little bar called the Back Stage Bar, where Pocatello songwriters would hang out and try out their material in the crowded, smoky room. Our friend Pam opened the Back Stage for just that purpose. Pam and the Back Stage are both gone now. Many of the friendships and many of the songs remain.


Hopped in my old Ford,
headed south on highway five
Rolled the windows low
and the music way up high
Springsteen singing loud
about a Jersey night
I sang along – 1985

Highway markers count the distance
From the ones I left behind
Getting’ hard to know the difference
Tween what I’m running from
and what I hope to find

A guitar, stories,
and a Minnesota smile
Got me gasoline and motels
and some food once in awhile
No one at my side
to reach for in the night
Made friends with lonely
– somehow it just felt right

Miles turn to memories
And memories turn to years
And years turn to lifetimes
But lifetimes disappear
Feels like running on smoke

Thinking back bout
my old hometown Backstage Bar
Dreams and cigarette smoke
always hung up in the air
All those years ago
and I still sing the songs
On Tuesday nights
we’d all sign along