When the river runs red and the skies are falling. When the shadows on the road speak a tone of warning. When the bread's all gone and the well was drawn to it's last degree. The hills are tight and you can barely see what's coming in between.
When the mud makes the road it's silent partner. Wipe the cold from your eyes say it's not much farther. The jigsaw patterns of the switchbacks blur in the rain. And you wonder whether you conscience got in the way.
Now a thousand miles alone, down an endless road. Towards and end you've always known. And you never said goodbye, never even tried. Was it all a part of your design?
Will the love that you left be of constant memory. Will the course that you run bear no reentry. Will your thoughts and desires ever fill you with grief. Will your sleep in the night never grant you relief.