It's a song about the highway
it's a song without a bridge
it's a song that couldn't finish
without starting on a ledge

When rubble turns to dust
and dust turns to fame
and you find yourself stumbling through
the corridors of time that still remain

Gone the way of the blacksmith
who once reigned as king
gone the way of the turtle
threatened by man's stream

Succumbed by lust
a return to the city occupied by cars
abandoned to the trust
that leads me to the comfort in these paneled bars

It's a song about the highway
It's a song without a bridge
It's a song that couldn't finish
without starting on a ledge

When rubble turns to dust
and dust turns to fame
and you find yourself stumbling through
the corridors of time that still remain

Living threads behind me
Leaving a life of tears
Living through the darkness
that's held me captive these last years

It's a song about the highway
It's a song without a bridge
It's a song that couldn't finish
without starting on a ledge

In this city of concentric circles
your love is a miracle
emblazoned like an oracle
that sings though Greek temples softly cradled
throughout the realm
that our lives encircle waxing rhetorical
and fabled

When rubble turns to dust
and dust turns to fame
and you find yourself stumbling through
the corridors of time that still remain

The necromancer casts a spell on our ship
as we slip away into the fog

the apache kid