makes a circle around the sun
Rippled taillights in the dark
like embers down the mountain from a fire
With a hundred miles behind you
And then within an end that sees you pulling
into Sydney with the dawn
Swing low while the white line
turn to headlights on the blacktop
Well, a one -nine -hundred number
The dull hum of the wheels
Caressed by waves of pillow talk, oh, I
Shake the cold beneath your coat, I
Banter with the waitress at the roadhouse
You detect the hint of faint
Underneath their watery smile
Swing low while the white line
Turn to headlights on the blacktop
Turn two embers down the mountain in
Where silence meets the darkness
A solitary end within a day
Swing low while the white line
Become empty apparitions on the rise
Knee on at the truck stop
Turn to headlights on the blacktop
Turn to embers down the mountain in the sky
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