Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Susan Tedeschi
Harmony Vocals
Amy Ray
Vocals
Adrian Carter
Fiddle
Jeff Fielder
Electric Guitar
Jim Brock
Drums
Matt Smith
Pedal Steel Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Amy Ray
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bobby Tis
Engineer
Lyrics
She came on up from Waycross yeah
From a whiskey swamp and a vagabond clan
With her tune in her bucket and her head held high
And a book about her grandpa flying the skies
She said, Man it ain't never gonna be the same
You know I'll give em a chance but
No one can play like Duane
Now it was back in the Fall of 71
Duane met a flatbed coming home
With his song in the charts and his Harley flying through the air
Now he was just hitting his stride when the angels wept
They said, Man it ain't never gonna be the same
You know we'll give em a chance but
No one can play like Duane
We lose the best, we lost the rest, we lose it all along the way
We learn to dig down deep, wipe our hands, and walk away from the grave
She said, Now, I got a hole that just won't fix
As deep as a sky that won't be lit
The span of a wing that just won't fly
And I been carrying this tune since the angels cried
She said, Man it ain't never gonna be the same
You know I'll give em a chance but
No one can play like Duane
Written by: Amy Ray