Not so far from where the railroad crosses through the woods they can hear the trains pa** by at night.
And she works all summer in fields nearby walking home just before it gets dark so she can buy a car.
And drive all night over red leaves past large trees and then long roads that take her over hills and over highways with many lanes.
And yellow signs that glow up ahead in the sky that always changes color.
We all know there's nobody there to pick up the phone and say we're so glad you're coming home again because the house burnt down.
Warm tears soak my jacket where her face is, her eyes are like lines drawn in the sky.
Then white names fill the screen I can see hers too but not mine and we all leave and feel strange.