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"

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