Lyrics
Rumors in the red rocks
perfect days are driving mad
the transient
Secrets in the city of wind
nights are longer as we head west
chasing the sun
Why won't I come home
I can't answer that I know this falls
on deaf ears
Miles and miles of
hope anticipation
and the smell of socks
I carry you around
you're in my pocket yet weak
is my reception
Wanting to be home and held
so few knew that we were
passing through
Different day same clothes
read of raw Russian November nights
morale is low
Arrangements made by clowns
I can't handle that
I know this falls on deaf ears
Miles and miles
of hope anticipation
and the smell of socks
I carry you around
you're in my pocket yet weak
is my reception
Strangers become family
much quicker now
this being my profession