That punk with a mustache who brought us our breakfast
Never came back with the check
On our third day of driving with no expectations
Except some vague sense of The West
Our silence was stretched between nerves and the knowledge
The ring that she wore wasn't mine
'Cause people get tired and they turn on each other
And the rivers run from the divides
That night we drove into Grand Junction, the lights
Were weeping and deep and divine
She said I trust that we'll get somewhere safe by the storm
But I'm scared of the size of this sky
♪
Janie, I fear that our love from last year
Was a tenor that's hard to maintain
Lost half what we had through a hole in the bag
And the cellophane won't take the blame
If we stretch out our funds, we can get through the month
But at some point there must come a time
That we sell something shipped from the wishes you list
For the guys that you talk with online
She said, "Mister, if you're thinking that far ahead
Can you see where we live when we get to the end of this?"
Besides, you don't like when I lean on those kinds of friends
It hurts being human, but our instincts will keep us alive
We do what we do to survive
♪
On the next day of driving with no real direction
Except for the sunset out west
She said, "I like having friends who check out and check in
So what if they send me some gifts?"
In Grand Junction, it seemed all the mountains were mocking
Our own little pitiful lives
On the side of the road with her arms in the air
Amazed by the size of the sky