Walk The Line Page #2

watching.

I want to see my daddy.

I want to go

home, John.

Please.

He's just got a job,

sitting in there in San Anton...

just waiting for us.

It's just sitting there...

it's just sitting there

waiting...

Viv, the guys are here.

My band is here in Memphis.

Your band?

John, your band?

Your band is two mechanics

who can't hardly play.

Baby, can't you hear the

difference between you and that?

You have your wife

and your baby in a dump, John...

and another one on the way...

and we can't even

make rent, John.

Excuse me, sir.

Are you the owner

of this place?

That's me.

Hello, I'm J.R. Cash.

Sam Phillips.

Well, good to meet

you, Mr. Phillips.

I'm a singer

and I've got a band...

and we've been

working on some songs.

You want to cut a record, son?

It's four dollars.

What about the guys there

on the wall in the pictures?

I mean, they pay four dollars?

They're on my label.

How do I get

on there?

You audition.

Right now?

Call my secretary, Marion,

when she comes back.

She's at the salon.

She'll set you up

an appointment next month.

I can't wait that long,

Mr. Phillips.

Excuse me?

I can't wait that long.

What about this one?

I can iron it.

John, you can't

wear that one.

It's black.

It's the only color shirt

we all have.

Nothing wrong with black.

It looks like you're

going to a funeral.

Maybe I am.

Maybe I am.

Hold on.

Hold on.

I hate to interrupt...

but do you guys

got something else?

I'm sorry.

I can't market gospel.

No more.

So that's it?

I don't record material

that doesn't sell, Mr. Cash...

and gospel like that

doesn't sell.

Was it the gospel

or the way I sing it?

Both.

Well, what's wrong with

the way I sing it?

I don't believe you.

You saying

I don't believe in God?

J.R., come on,

let's go.

No.

I want to understand.

I mean, we come down here,

we play for a minute...

and he tells me

I don't believe in God.

You know exactly

what I'm telling you.

We've already heard that song

a hundred times...

just like that,

just like how you sang it.

Well, you didn't let us

bring it home.

Bring... bring it home?

All right, let's bring it home.

If you was hit by a truck

and you were lying out

in that gutter dying...

and you had time to sing

one song, huh, one song...

people would remember

before you're dirt...

one song that would let

God know what you felt about

your time here on earth...

one song that would sum you up...

you telling me

that's the song you'd sing?

That same Jimmie Davis tune

we hear on the radio all day?

About your peace within

and how it's real

and how you're

gonna shout it?

Or would you sing

something different?

Something real,

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