spring's in the air, and the bloodroot is blooming
and i'm wearing the coat that you bought me last year
and off to the north, the horizon is looming
and the road's like a calling i don't wanna hear
the radio's tuned to a soft kind of sorrow
but the hum of the engine just drowns out the thought
and i'm tossing my last cigarette out the window
and i'm leaving this town and the things that i'm not
this town and the things i'm not
the cities i pass are like sentinels waiting
when i hit 65 i fly just like the wind
and as i travel on, all that i knew is fading
into some kind of memory play i was in
the stage lights are caked in the dust of the freeway
and the curtains have torn into rags over time
but the stage is all set and the script leaves no leeway
the theater was yours, but the story was mine
then the story was yours and mine
it was eight years ago, and the diner was dirty
and i fed you a line and i slipped you my key
and you made me a song, but the verses were wordy
and the chords didn't fit, and still it spoke right to me
and i fell so hard, i fell just like a boulder
so fast that my stomach just caught in my throat
by the time that i hit, i was centuries older
you didn't love me no more, and that was all that she wrote
you didn't love me, that's all she wrote
in an hour or two, you'll be waking without me
and i'll be half the way through kentucky by then
i'll be asking myself, what the hell am i doing?
and you'll be wondering why you ever did let me in
and the stage lights go up and the place does continue
though we grow so weary of the roles we must play
but oh well, anyhow, i say all this to tell you
baby, i never wanted to go away
my love, i never wanted to go away
credits
from Phoenix,
released June 24, 2014
Matt Morrow - vocals, guitar, piano, bass
Antje Duvekot - vocals
Michelle Solari - vocals
Kristi Coughlin - violin
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 27, 2022