"Suitcase" genre: Americana
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	A song about musician Has-beens and Want-to-be's.
	CD: Midwestern   Label: none Credits: Copyright Tracy Koeller
	Story Behind the Song I lived in Nashville for seven years. I once took a Greyhound to Nashville, and was totally captivated by the number of people with guitars or whatever, sitting in the bus station, some coming, some going back home, with their tail between their legs, never landing that big record deal.That's what moved me to write this song. Its about people who never make it or those who do for a brief moment, forever more looking for that same moment again.I was a house painter and painted the houses of a lot of record company execs in Nashville, seeing how irritated some of these people would get, being solicited by musicians constantly, I never had the heart to present any of my songs to them. I hope it wasn't my downfall. Lyrics Suitcase She once had a suitcase full of what she thought she would need. They all threw a party, sent her off to chase a dream. She would always say, 'they're waitin' there for me.' She stepped off the Greyhound labeled 'Nashville Tennessee.' With hopes and aspirations of what would never be, and a suitcase full of what she thought she'd need. She called from Music City just the other day. 'Meet me at the bus stop, I'm comin' home to stay. After all of the years, between what I had lost and never found, I'll be just another ghost, another ghost in this town.' He once had a suitcase full of what he thought he'd need. He stepped off a charter, there was a thousand eyes to see. He would always say, 'this world was made for me.' The ice around his conscience were diamonds in his mind. And he could get through everyday, one white line at a time, in a suitcase full of what he thought he'd need. Pullin' 50's from his pocket just like a switchblade knife. Never mattered to him what was wrong or what was right. Now, after all of the years, between what he had lost and never found, he'll be just another ghost, another ghost in this town. You can almost see the faces but you can't recall the names of all of the folks who've come and gone or never got to play the game. With a suitcase full of broken dreams. After all of the years, between what they had lost and never found. You can't hear them on the airwaves, but you can almost feel the sound of just another ghost, another ghost in this town. copyright Tracy Koeller

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