There’s a white boat comin’ down the river. With a big red beacon and a flag, and a man on the rail. I think you’d better call John ’cause it don’t look like they’re here to deliver the mail.
About Author Ken Bielen compares Powderfinger to film noir because the narrator has died before the song begins, and notes that the song “has remained in high regard over the decades.” Bielen regards the theme as “the tragic and wasteful loss of youth to conflicts between countries and their leaders.”
I’ll forget you. This, folks, is mighty fine country music.
About Raised under the rays of the sun in Huntington Beach, CA, Victoria Bailey was surrounded by music in her household from an early age. From her drumming father’s rock ’n’ roll band practices to her mom playing the narrative-driven songbooks of folk icons like Cat Stevens and James Taylor, Bailey was naturally drawn to music and the art of storytelling. After falling in love with the guitar at the age of 12, she quickly developed an affinity for songwriting in her late teens and garnered the kind of support system every musical child would dream of: her father was so impressed by her talent that he called on his three musically-inclined best friends to join him in becoming his daughter’s backing band, eventually performing shows around town.
We was out in the sticks down Highway Six And the crowd was just about right. The speed was too, so out I flew Like a stick of rollin’ dynamite.
“Course we kept it a secret from everybody ’cause, if our folks had found out, we’d all been off to military school, but then my buddy went and printed up flyers and distributed them at school sayin’ to come and see the ‘master of sparks‘ that night on jack-rabbit road which was Highway Six, our launch pad.”
These are children riding naked on their tourist pals While the hollows that pass for eyes swell from withdrawal As he lies on a mattress in a rat infested room Talking ’bout his family and the cold back home