Honestly I don’t know where I’m going but I’ll miss you when I get there
There may not be a highway that can bring you to me
(buried alive by every road sign but I need something to call mine)

I hear the places I haven’t been calling my name
And now I dream of all the roads and maps and how I’m never coming back

The days are cold I feel alone and everything gets old
When nights don’t change I feel ashamed of how I got so old

I hear the places I haven’t been calling my name
And now I dream of all the roads and maps and how I’m never coming back

I’ve seen this place in my dreams that everyone says I’ll never see
If that's the case well then I’ll pray that I die in my sleep

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