Let's say we just keep aiming straight
and lay more rubber on the backroad radius
of tarry black top Texas like two interstate
eight ***** rolling for free range
Take me to where the quail coo through
the straw with your wolf paw on my knee
Past the wooden western dispatch
poles and water tower stands
Past the tin roofed ranches through longhorn land
I wanna follow the fence row route to nowhere
up ahead and sleep under the stars
throw sticks into a vagabond fire till we're tired
of another country crock detour and wayside diner
Don't say no, let's just go

Written by Sara Fielder © July 2015