Preach sang those words and everyone knows they’re for Lyla, even though no one but Preacher knows how bad Lyla needs to hear them.

“Maybe I’m Amazed” is an insanely beautiful song.

When we played “Lovesong…”

For our fans, for us, for the lore of the Roadmasters, that became…

[Stops speaking and doesn’t resume for some time]

After it all went down that became…

It.

After that shit hit with Dave and Leeanne, a rift has definitely formed in the band.

Preacher.

And the rest of us.

And this is the only time I thought this, but we need him to be about us, not Lyla.

We’re on tour and nothing’s ever gonna shake them so they need to put on hold whatever is goin’ on and he needs to see to his brothers.

At least, that was what I thought at the time.

And I was right.

I was also wrong.

Dave not wakin’ up, Penny the way she was being something I always had on my mind, goin’ through what I was goin’ through ditchin’ the shit, knowin’ Dave and Tim got it worse, Shawn is no nursemaid, but he’s suddenly not all about boning when he’s not hanging with the band.

He’s about keeping us hydrated and finding shit for us to do to keep our minds off it.

And shit is like that for the band and Preacher’s not involved in that?

Preacher doesn’t have our backs?

Preacher is not losing his own crutches?

We all start to get pissed.

He’s on for a show. He’s on in a radio booth.

But he and Lyla miss band breakfasts, hit the plane fuzzy and distracted and pass out almost immediately. They disappear from the dressing room and come back sniffing and swiping their noses.

And we’re not partying, but they are.

You’re Preacher and Lyla, you can find a party anywhere. Everyone wants to party with you.

Any bar you pick, you pitch up, it’s a rave.

She’s out there in her little satin slip dresses, her chucks and jeans overalls, her cutoffs and camis with a tangle of necklaces down her front, and he’s Preacher, they get noticed.

They get their pictures taken and those pictures get in magazines.

They got their foreheads together over a table, lookin’ gorgeous, lookin’ into each other, lookin’ in love, but on that table, there are three empty martini glasses and a half empty bourbon bottle next to an empty lowball glass.

Or he’s throwing some back and she’s got her face tucked to his neck and you can see her tongue is out, tasting him.

[Links fingers with forefingers steepled, bends neck and rests forefingers against his forehead before he looks up and drops his hands]

Not good.

I think we’re in Phoenix when Tim goes off the setlist.