gliding along a two-lane highway at 95 miles per hour
you speed over lime green lakes and wash past silvery skies
and the "Don't mess with Texas" postcard sits in the dashboard
it only takes thirty seconds to get through small towns
where puddles of water have names
and English horses are gods
trapped on the outside of inside
you run your fingers through the wind
grasping all the life you can hold in your palm
your heart feels it when it withers away
you don't care how far away you are from home
staring into this western sky...
blinded under this western sky
just a day away from home
something's not right
when the music on your headset
doesn't the meet the rhthym of the road
