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."