It was backstage in Moscow late one night
We shared a cigarette, a kiss goodbye
Her name was Gayenne, 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 didnt have very much to say
She said that shed come from some other place
A town called Troitsk or maybe Troyce
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 its pathetic, she continued to write,
But that was the greatest night of my life.