| Well my daddy he stood at the foot of the stairs
|
| He was calling to me at the time
|
| And I knew even then, I could die for the thoughts
|
| That I kept in the back of my mind
|
| But I dared not to speak
|
| How I felt for my dad
|
| Cause there were no words to define
|
| The ball of confusion, of feelings and junk
|
| That I kept in the back of my mind
|
| So I took to the highway
|
| And I kept to myself
|
| Just a lookin' and hopin' to find
|
| Some solutions, some answers, someway to exist
|
| With this stuff in the back of my mind
|
| So I took me a job
|
| And I took me a wife
|
| And I took me a bottle of wine
|
| And it did not take long, 'til all I had left
|
| Was this stuff in the back of my mind
|
| Well the end of the tunnel
|
| Just never came up
|
| 'til I came to the end of the line
|
| And I saw that the light I’d been hoping to see
|
| Was just a spark in the back of my mind
|
| And the cold wind that blew
|
| Through the hole in my heart
|
| Made a fire for the very first time
|
| From some branches of trust
|
| And a kindling of faith
|
| And that spark in the back of my mind
|
| Drivin' like rain, or a runaway train
|
| Flyin' blind, shot from the dark in the back of my mind |