Many miles, downhill blues.
I have a material home to lay in,
the windows show me shadowed mountains.
Hungry for… I’ve lost it…
I’m going out West for those open spaces
those sweet touches
of air, and on and on.
Over and over I loose my concentration
and then I have to start over.
But its nice anyhow…
I feel you from underneath my covers, tucked away there;
its necessary i guess.
Talking is old news, I think we should start humming,
we would remember then.