I Know It’s Pathetic But That Was The Greatest Night Of My Life

It was backstage in Moscow late one night

We shared a cigarette, a kiss goodbye

Her name was Cayenne, so young and soft

Her hands trembled badly, her eyes trailed off

To bottles and objects around the room

My backup guitar, a tray of food

We didn't have very much to say

She said that she'd come from some other place

A town called Troyskirt, maybe Troysworth

I was pretty distracted packing my stuff

But I did make a point to ask her to stay

But she said she had friends that she had to go see

Later that summer I picked up my mail

She sent me a letter with a touching detail

"I used up my minutes calling hotels

To find you that night but to no avail"

"I know it's pathetic," she continued to write,

"But that was the greatest night of my life."