There's a highway washed in brightness with skies of indigo
the desert whispers what she knows
Neruda on the dashboard & the engine's humming true
the rearview held a harvest moon

chorus:
faith is a throw of dice and the sleeping heart is stirred
after ragged sentences you'll get the last word
and it may just be the most golden that we've heard
it may just be the most golden that we've heard

afternoons of red wine with a nod to revelry
the stars came out for you & me
all that remains unanswered and all there's to forget
the best, it hasn't happened yet

there are songs for the beginning and songs made for the end
and songs made for when you begin again
grieving? she rolls in like waves and hardly ever stops
until you learn her lines by heart

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