Walking Without Frankie: Okkervil River

I last saw you, Frankie, walking through that New Hampshire dew. And when you shot five thousand feet up into the grey sky, what could I do? Now I bet you're in space. Write me, or whatever. I feel so far away. Like I'm an old typewriter, out on the showroom floor. Like I'm the Last Starfighter and they forgot the war. And they burned my trailer. And they're on my tail. And I'm out on tour.

And I want Frankie. I want Frankie. I want Frankie