This river of road,
It don't flow like it used to.
But it's more of a home
Than anywhere that I've ridden it to. We used to dream together
But now I drink alone.
From the bottle to the tumbler
Is the only journey left I know. And in my memories depths I retrace my steps.
I cannot find where I went wrong.
It was one fast move or I'm gone. I found out at an early age I could make anything or plane
Disappear or cease to exist if I turn my back to it.
And that the interstates, they don't connect
Where you are to what you've left.
And the ghost of our dreams haunt the roads in between.