dave alvin tom russell i guess she put her blue dress on and walked out late last night left one silk stocking dangling from the bedside light i sobered up and called her name just before the dawn i saw her footprints in the sand and knew that she had gone down the rio grande i pulled out of albuquerque prayin i wasn t late i got a couple cups of coffee at some joint off the interstate passin through las cruces i swear i saw her car she always said she d go someday but never said how far down the rio grande maybe she s in brownsville she s got some family there she was always talkin bout the salty gulf coast air where the river ends down the rio grande i saw an old grey heron flyin south against the wind storm clouds over juarez rollin east to the big bend i drove down highway ninety through a dusty desert wind i didn t know where it would lead me or if i d find her again down the rio grande i lit my last cigarette as the sky began to clear black mountains up ahead a red sundown in my mirror lost all the border tween the future and the past one fading slowly and the other comin fast down the rio grande maybe she s in brownsville she s got some family there she was always talkin bout the salty gulf coast air where the river ends down the rio grande i bought a bottle in del rio and i parked on the side of the road i stayed up all night starin at the lights of mexico and i walked down to border bridge at the break of day and i threw that empty bottle off and i watched it float away down the rio grande maybe she s in brownsville she s got some family there she was always talkin bout the salty gulf coast air where the river ends down the rio grande where the river ends