weathered stones i fished out from some rushing mountain stream yellowed books with dog eared pages wildflowers pressed between postcards from every place where i laid me down to sleep little souvenirs to remind you of me oh the road is not your friend its just a means to an end how i wish i could take you along but i take it all on faith youll understand someday why i did all i did while i was gone for a song i catch a glimpse a glint off something shining somewhere in the great unknown like a beast i chase it over hills and mountains valleys rivers til its cornered on a scrap of paper on a bedside table in some cheap motel where the highway drones sometimes it feels like church sometimes like im the last man on earth just a voice howling out into the darkness oh the road is not your friend its just a means to an end ill be home late dont wait up just leave a light on but i take it all on faith youll understand someday why i did all i did while i was gone for a song oh the road is not your friend its just a means to an end how i wish i could take you along but i take it all on faith youll understand someday why i did all i did while i was gone for a song
['new england americana']