The trunk is full of paper ghosts and wool,
I’m driving south to see if the canyon is still full.
The radio is playing something old and thin,
Tracing lines across the places where the sky begins.
I left the city noise for a hollow kind of peace,
A temporary stay, a conditional release.
My skin is like a map I can’t quite read tonight,
Looking for the edge of the morning light.

Oh, the wind is a thief and the mountains are tall,
And I’m just a witness to the rise and the fall.
I’m tracing the shadows where the memory stays,
Trading my tomorrows for my yesterdays.
It’s a long way home when you don’t know the name,
Of the person who started the fire and the flame.

I found a mirror by the sink in the hall,
It didn’t recognize the person at all.
Just a collection of habits I’ve learned to outgrow,
Like a river that’s forgotten which way it should flow.

I’m shedding the skin of a name I once wore,
Leaving the baggage on the porch by the door.
The seasons are shifting, the air’s turning cold,
I’m buying my stories back from the old.

Oh, the wind is a thief and the mountains are tall,
And I’m just a witness to the rise and the fall.
I’m tracing the shadows where the memory stays,
Trading my tomorrows for my yesterdays.
It’s a long way home when you don’t know the name,
Of the person who started the fire and the flame.

And it’s hard to tell where the dust ends and the heart begins,
(It’s hard to tell),
I’m tired of the race, I’m tired of the wins.
Just let me be quiet, just let me be still,
High on the ridge of this lonely old hill.
(Lonely old hill),
The ice is melting, the river is wide,
And I’ve got nowhere left for a heart to hide.

It’s a long way home...
(Mmm-mmm, humming the tune)
Just me and the blue.