Saturday, November 12, 2005

That ole wind knockin outside my door
Tellin me you ain't livin round here no more.
Three days out of Santa Fe,
I knew I'd no longer pass your way.

This road I travel is always winding,
Ain't no end to it in sight
Hop a bus
Hop a plane
I'm the only on to
blame.

Scattered papers across my floor,
Screens shattered forevermore
Rolling waves on Narragansett Bay,
Told Me you haven't passed this way...

This road I travel is always winding
Ain't no end to it in sight
Caught a cab
Stole a car,
I can't get that far.

Boston's Common,
Versaille's Gardens,
None of them can tell me well
You haven't passed this way...
And I've got nothing left to say...

This road I travel is always winding,
Ain't no end to it in sight
I pray each night someday it might,
But the house is empty till you I'm finding,
and I can't get that far.
Howling wind, life of sin, whatev'r am I to do.
Take this car drive it far, down that winding road
and search for you.

and search for you.

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