In a window of an old pawn shop, you stood there looking back at me,
I could tell we both had some hard roads, two of a kind it seems.
So I went in and asked for your freedom, seemed the right thing
to do at the time.
We have traveled a many back roads, yep we are two of a kind.
Your face carries as  many scars as I have of my own.
They say it  is a note book of the lessons learned the hard way,
on the road we travel on.
We've seen the insides of most bars, back allys
and a ditch or two.
Guess there really aint much we haven't done, two of a kind, us two.
Yep I get  a new stich here and there, you get a new string or two.
Back together on the road, singing, telling, writing.
It's what we  were meant to do.
Some would say  this is crazy, the thing we  have at this time.
I say let them think what  they want. We are buds, pals...
two of a kind.