traveler plays the tumbleweed
tangled to my prayers
on highway's stitched you'll find me there
I'm in the in-betweens
with some old words I wrote
in the pocket of my coat
for to complete
busted boots & notebooks lord I was
roughin' it like Twain
hung my heartsick prose in the pines
still it choked me up on the range
for every song the woodland sings
hits you once and its for me
this time
for a moment in the morning
for a fleeting glance at all
thats warmth & ernest feeling
for my stayin's & my leavin's by & by
someday, my voice I'll learn to carry
you where my body's bound
woodland's wardrobe outlined mine
we were white & evergreen
adorned in smoke & drifters
movin' through lit window scenes
of following through and carrying out
well we never learned just how
to write the in-betweens with end in mind
yes we'll write the in-betweens with end in mind
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