Bethany

Bethany is five foot
With hair down to her knees
And she carries the guitar
Of a boy she loves but never sees
And she’ll follow him to Santa Barbara
When she is just nineteen
With some money from her father
A man she loves but never sees

She, she is lost in the records
Singing Blonde in the Bleachers
She is free
But she’s tired already

So she lived out of a school bus
Parked in some old lady’s yard
And to this day she’ll thank the seventies
And the California stars
But at night she still got lonely
And the boy with the guitar
Couldn't give a damn about it
She still held him in her heart

And she, she was lost in the records
Singing Blonde in the Bleachers
She was free
But freedom never comes easy
And love it never comes freely
Just ask Bethany

The boy with the guitar
Became a man with a full band
And he left her with a baby
Chose the road over a family
So Bethany she left there
For a farm out in the country
Raised the little girl up wild
With the horses and the daisies

And she, she is lost in the records
Singing Blonde in the Bleachers
She is free
But freedom never comes easy
And love it never comes freely
Just ask Bethany