There is a lake just outside the town
where the lights are blurry like a stained glass window.
There is an old truck that hasn't worked since the fifties;
I'm standing on the roof, looking down.

This high distance call I'm making
will probably cost more than I can afford.
My finger is wrapping around the cord.
It's late and my words are choking.

But the road is thousand miles long
and it will take forever, just to have you nigh.
The wind sings my lullaby,
off key, but it's my song.

There is a lake just outside of the town;
a place where you used to go.
Where the winds blow
and the city lights are like a canvas picture meltdown