This restless, heady child
Vulnerable and wild
Thoughts flicking like a
badly wired lamp
Hanging on to all she said
Stuck in you like lumps of lead
Shot out from an enemy camp
Sometimes he had to drive
Way out west to the countryside
Every mile like clearing out his head
Listen to KB and the boys
Stories from Camilla Roy
That man sure sings sweet
as all she said
He's out on the Hope Highway
He's out on the Hope Highway
At the end of the dying day
He's out on the Hope Highway
The words like a hammer,
though still so
Pollyanna, rang like a four -alarm fire
Through the New England ranges,
his thoughts they turned to strangers,
and he imagined his whole
life had been a lie
Kept thinking about the girls
He'd never kiss in the whole wide world
What a cruel twist of fate to be alone
And waste away the days
Into soft middle age
Yeah, wherever I lay my
head is my home
He's out on the Hope Highway
He's out on the Hope Highway
At the end of the dying days
Take these out on the old highway
Come, good, good man, come home
Don't you know,
it ain't the same since you're gone
Cutting through the black tar
Peeled treads and livestock
A hundred shades of yellow and brown
He came to his senses
Tied and defenseless
Decided he could turn it all around
And head back to the coast
And bury every single ghost
That ever dared to run him down
He's out on the Hope Highway
Out on the Hope Highway
At the end of the dying days
Out on the Hope Highway
On the Hope Highway
Lord, on the Hope Highway
On the Hope Highway
Yeah, yeah, yeah