Sitting on my back stairs,
highway 74 mounts its Mississippi overpass,
watching folks join the highway headed home.
I’ve just pushed send on something that could be nothing,
and could be everything,
and I find myself watching folks headed home.
Sitting on my back stairs,
highway 74 mounts its Mississippi overpass,
watching folks join the highway headed home.
I’ve just pushed send on something that could be nothing,
and could be everything,
and I find myself watching folks headed home.