Look in the rearview. The grittiest street lights with freshly shaven counter parts jumping continental flights. Are we awake? Are we dreaming? Are we all obsessed with spoon-fed celebrities and southern rock guitar leads? I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs. I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs. Black cat and your wishes in a handbag. I keep calling 'cuz I want my fucking hat back. I'm alive, I'll just fight my eyes. Cool breeze running through the attic, called back and all I got was static. I'm alive I'll just fight my eyes. I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs. I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs. Like a landlocked sailor with a heart of gold. Will the boys be home? Or with some foreign tour guide talking politics and the fall of Rome. (We'll I'm not a loner, sadly I'm just a bit of a rebel now.)