| Every branch on every tree
|
| All the rivers and their streams
|
| Broken fence, forgotten door
|
| Looks like the one we passed before
|
| Every highway opens up
|
| And slips into the blue
|
| Every road I travel on
|
| Will lead me back to you
|
| Tires, hum your mellow tune
|
| The show lit by a yellow moon
|
| We dream of incandescent eyes
|
| The elegy of engine sighs
|
| Will bury our goodbyes
|
| Holding comfort like a crutch
|
| Write too little, read too much
|
| In whispering words of wooing woe
|
| Don’t see the cornfield for the crows
|
| And when I try to call you up
|
| To tell you something new
|
| The heart of what it started from
|
| Is just something to get through
|
| All the hours inside the bars
|
| That go from beers to borrowed cars
|
| That idle in the snow, the more we hear the less we know
|
| We win the soundcheck, lose the show
|
| Though every highway opened up
|
| And slipped into the blue
|
| The road I chose to travel on
|
| Led me away from you
|
| When every highway opened up
|
| And slipped into the blue
|
| We raised the road into the sky
|
| To bring me back to you |