(You rolling, Jon?)
(Rolling)
Every time I drive up on fifty-three
I'm seein' sideways up ahead of me
There's little lakes, there's little fountains
There's little molehills made out of mountains
There's little prayers that I perceive, oh
Every time I drive up on fifty-four
It goes past Mick's and Dick's general store
There goes the signal, it's dropped for miles
There goes the static at the top of the dial
Every wildland screened in
But only a hundred years of white men
Who am I to witness, who am I to see?
Who am I to notice which way a tree
Fallin' alone, fall silently?
Half a mile later, just past the sign
There's a Winnebago, an Econoline
I smell the lake on up a ways
I know the exit and the parking place
We used to swim out in the sun
We were swimming out there under heaven
We were too young to have been unforgiven
Who are you to listen, who are you to care?
Just someone who knows me from anywhere
Where do we come from, out of thin air?
I hear you whisper in the back of my hair
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
