Darkness closes from the plains down to the valley where the old man reigns Gazing out in one endless crooked line Driving, driving, just because this country's not the way it was Back when the maps were drawn and the books were signed I don't know just what to do or where this water's running to I've got a foot on the river and a foot on land and a silver pitcher in either hand Hand in hand they walked the shore in the town that Susie settled for Albany, ain't it a pretty sight But the bridge wouldn't lift and the locks wouldn't close And then one day the puddles froze And she remembered the barges at night I don't know just what to say or if the water's listening anyway I bend to the river and extend my hand and I wake up smiling in the sand Sandy beach about half a mile from the floating cafe by the empty isle And the muddy stream that simmers in the sun Driving, driving, just the same None of us know just who's to blame But we're certain we can count from three to one I bend to the river and extend my hand One foot on the water, one foot on land I'll be out there sleeping in the sand with a silver pitcher in either hand

This story was written long ago So please tell it to me slow Everything the way it was meant to be told Whisper like the story is old Or I may never go to sleep again I don't know what I'll find there, my friend I may never No, you cried. The tale cannot be said. A song cannot be tasted, a rainstorm can't be read On these two things you and I should agree One day you'll know it the way it was known to me Until then you can sleep peacefully And the night will be what it will be And you'll never One night I was lying crooked, my tent was on a slope The flies buzzed around me like the burnt end of a rope And suddenly I was lying in a luminous haze Just why, I wasn't to know for days But I let it out and brought it in Like a drawbridge opening and closing Though I never And now I'll never go to sleep again Because I don't know what I'll find there, my friend I will never

Morning is wide and the water is long The fire is cold and all the songs are sung Down the way, the city rubs the sleep out of its eyes Morning is wide and the water is long The fire is cold and all the songs are sung Down the way, the city yawns and stretches out its legs

It seems that somehow you've been told that I'm walking on down the road. You're not quite sure just why or when the road is coming around again So you want to bid me goodbye 'til the summer You're awful sure it won't come that soon It's been sung and it's been sought that the road is something that it's not. I can tell you where water can be found. I can tell you where there's love in the ground. I've walked the pathways and seen the signs And I know what to do about painted lines And the road goes on and on. Tired old farmhand, kicked about, he's heading home, without a doubt. Lazy Sunday, feeling fine, he walks on down to the railroad line, Whistles, and a boxcar comes for him. Just how that was, he never would admit. And Dancing Tom you knew before, there he is fishing on the canyon floor. He picks a banjo, spins a wheel, his head is humming with an ancient reel That no one knows how to play anymore. He's carrying a book and grinning a grin And there's a figure sauntering down the canyon towards him. It's been whispered, it's been told that the water's been covering that Utah road. I can tell you where a card game can be found. I can tell you where there's truth in the ground. I've walked the pathways and seen the signs And I know what to do about painted lines And the road goes on and on. The crowds are outside making noise, shaking up your careful poise. Imagine a spot out in the trees, the soil full of colonies And every stone imparting something sad. The breeze kicks up and your name is writ in the dust. There'll come a day when you will see what the forest said to me. Told in silence, known in sleep, The rim lines of the canyons reaping visions from the grasses below And there's a car that's snaking down the hill right now Carrying a drowsy girl who dreams of walking. It's been soaked and it's been burned, the storefront crumbles, the pages turn. I can tell you where an old friend can be found. I can tell you where there's hope in the ground. I've walked the pathways and seen the signs And I know what to do about painted lines And the road goes on and on. It seems that somehow you've been told that I'm walking on down the road. You're not quite sure just why or when the road is coming around again So you want to bid me goodbye 'til the springtime. The winter isn't all that long, you know. It's been sung and it's been sought that the road is something that it's not. I can tell you where water can be found. I can tell you where there's love in the ground. I've walked the pathways and seen the signs And I know what to do about painted lines And the road goes on and on. I can't see the end of it.