There's a certain concentration of freedom between stations
Or what i consider freedom in these fenced-in gla** walls.
What we learned from the movies when we were in our pre-teens
Turned out to be just the echo of an imprint of a call
And i meant to read two novels on my way out to the west
But i only read the essays with the note on the first page
And all i wanted to write about quickly left the scene
After finding a hole big enough in the air conditioning.
Oh…be my home. i forget when i'm on the road.
And i woke up every morning not knowing where i was
And if the white outside was snow or salt or painted on the gla**.
I feed off simple stories and your memories about wars
And i was staring at the scenery not remembering what cities are for.
When i got out of the train at midnight in the middle of it all,
I felt the cold in my feet and the smoke in my lungs
And i ran up and down the platform measuring the train
Like a weirdly lined-up village doomed to be always travelling.
Z-e-p-h-y-r be my home. i forget my one true love when i'm on the road.
Cut the darkness with a plastic fork, it will swallow us whole.
There are no cars in the distance and no voices on the phone.
Everybody's conquered the prairie just like ma & pa
And i've had one too many conversations about america.
I remember the nothing shrinking down in size
And seeing not more than if i hadn't opened my eyes
And having dreams about tidal waves and all of us in tiny boats.
I remember sitting in a hotel room thinking my head was about to explode.
Z-e-p-h-y-r be my home. i forget my one true love when i'm on the road.