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Description
A little musing about life using the metaphor of a highway.
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Lyrics
My bag is packed, got a tank full of gas. I'm on my way. I'd like to spend some time with you baby, but I just can't stay. The spirits of the fallen, they are callin' my name. I got to get out of this place. It's a brand new day. Now I'm headed towards The Lost Highway.
I once had a future, but now It's my past. Nothing in this mean old world, Is meant to last. I yearn for the knowledge, of what I can't say, but It will be revealed to me. For this I pray. When I get to That Lost Highway.
The end is for certain, the past is behind. Got to get to that highway baby, just to ease my mind. The ghosts all around me, got nothing to say. They have seen it all so many times before, somewhere along the way, On that road to The Lost Highway,
The lights in the distance, they beckon to me. In this home of the brave and the land of the free. There's one thinf for certain. One thing I can say. We all meay be differen't, we all go the same way. On our journey to The Lost Highway.
I once had a future, but now It's my past. Nothing in this mean old world, Is meant to last. I yearn for the knowledge, of what I can't say, but It will be revealed to me. For this I pray. When I get to That Lost Highway.
The end is for certain, the past is behind. Got to get to that highway baby, just to ease my mind. The ghosts all around me, got nothing to say. They have seen it all so many times before, somewhere along the way, On that road to The Lost Highway,
The lights in the distance, they beckon to me. In this home of the brave and the land of the free. There's one thinf for certain. One thing I can say. We all meay be differen't, we all go the same way. On our journey to The Lost Highway.























rover101
despite the drums (yeah, I know, I'm an a-hole). And I honestly think the
solo could do with a little re-thinking - it's like you only get into it
properly a third of the way through. And I think there's room for a few fills
around the lyrics. Bloody critics (T.S.Eliot says they should be handled
with brass knuckles). Lovely song. Cheers, Shaky