Riding through nostalgia, shaking memories by the mile

the city lights are closing in on him

the distance grows shorter for a while



He wonders what dreams fill her heart

and wonders if what they had could ever be sparked

"The roads never lead where they're supposed to go,"

that's what he tells himself before he lets it go.



Out on the cold grey plain, sunken on the side of the

road

the words bleed off the page, the letter becomes

well-soaked

"No more turning backwards," he says, as he drives off

in the rain

ventures on up through the Colorades and settles under

the rock

and pines, and stakes claim



Still he wonders what what dreams fill her heart

and wonders if what they had could ever be sparked

the roads never lead where they're supposed to go



They just twist 'round and 'round the flame

the eyes closing, the heart retains

a bit of a spark before it fades away

that's where he gets lost and drifts off alone

and what he tells himself..."Better let it go."