I drove a million miles of gray.
I saw the summer burn away.
You sailed a wooden boat of pine.
Across a salt lake's jagged line.
The map is torn and thin.
The midnight wind kicks in.
Meet me where the red sand glows.
Where the heavy river flows.
Wooden hull on a porch of stone.
Two lost souls finally coming home.
The motel key is rusted red.
A dusty pillow for a head.
Your oars are heavy, worn and old.
A story that the desert told.
The map is torn and thin.
The midnight wind kicks in.
Meet me where the red sand glows.
Where the heavy river flows.
Wooden hull on a porch of stone.
Two lost souls finally coming home.
The Santa Fe sky is deep and wide.
Nowhere for a ghost to hide.
I'll park the cab by the garden gate.
I've spent a lifetime playing wait.
Meet me where the red sand glows.
Where the heavy river flows.
Wooden hull on a porch of stone.
Two lost souls finally coming home.
Old proverbs say the road is long.
The steady beat is a working song.
We'll tie the rope to a cedar post.
The thing I wanted, the thing I lost.
Meet me where the red sand glows.
Where the heavy river flows.
Wooden hull on a porch of stone.
Two lost souls finally coming home.
Tie the rope tight.
Stay for the night.
Coming home.
