let me tell you
how to get here
the sun has broken
and the roads are clear
take a turn
at the end of Main
don't matter which
they're both the same
old sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
old flat bed truck
with a flat rear tire
here's currently
the place I stay
and it's from here
I'll run away
don't try to tell me
I won't listen
don't try to teach me
I won't learn
look for me
in the rear view mirror
and know i will never return
know I will never return
small towns have
long memories
and it's a long, long trail
in front of me
but I will not
be taken by
another broken alibi
I like the rhythm
of your hips
the grasping of
your fingertips
your silhouetted
curve and sway
almost enough
to choose to stay
don't try to tell me
I won't listen
don't try to teach me
I won't learn
look for me
in the rear view mirror
and know i will never return
know I will never return
old sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
the memory
of a Sunday choir
the cemetery's
cold gray stone
the resting place
I know as home
don't try to tell me
I won't listen
don't try to teach me
I won't learn
look for me
in the rear view mirror
and know i will never return
know I will never return
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