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| Lonely Rider |
| Beth Amsel ©2001 Good Egg Music |
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I throw the keys down on the bed spread between the tourist magazines I close the curtain I know for certain this is no where I belong I caught the whistle off the highway now I've been wandering too much I have been wandering I am clumsy and beside me I spilled a pool of gasoline now my coffee tastes like the bitter fuel but I drink it just the same I threw the map out in Dacono you wouldn't believe the things I've seen like the sunflower fields in Kansas, monument to gold and green I have been wandering I am a lonely rider on a real slow horse I am a wayward christian blown just a little left off course I am a little young to have known the last world war nothing more than a stab in the dark between these motel walls I drove the back roads of Virginia to escape the toll road cost I saw white crosses on the highway marking the loved ones that've been lost And old men in rust stained overalls smile empty, toothless grins they salute me from their lawn chairs though they know not where I've been I have been wandering I am a lonely rider on a real slow horse I am a wayward christian blown just a little left off course I am a little young to have known the last world war nothing more than a stab in the dark between these motel walls you pass through cities by the score mark your distance but don't ever mark your course and you take your lonely by the hand and slowly drive off again I wonder will you recognize this person I've become though it's not about thick skin and scars and the damage that's been done and I know now about trust and shame and the luck that I have got I will walk barefoot across those bridges whether they are burning or are not I am a lonely rider on a real slow horse I am a wayward christian blown just a little left off course I am a little young to have known the last world war nothing more than a stab in the dark I'm a little shocked to see the ways that I need I am a tight rope walker fallen down upon her knees I am a little young to know the why and what for nothing more than a stab in the dark between these motel walls |
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