The Oregon Rain
(Verse 1)
The headlights cut through the Oregon rain,
A silver blade on a black asphalt vein.
I’ve got three hundred miles of timber and stone,
And a ghost in the passenger seat of my own.
The radio's playing an old country hymn,
The dashboard lights are burning out dim.
I left my keys on the counter back there,
With a note saying "darling, I’m chasing the air."
(Verse 2)
By hour number two, the valleys grow deep,
Where the loggers and riverboat captains all sleep.
I remember the winter of fourteen-and-four,
When the water came rising right up to our door.
You held up a lantern, you laughed at the flood,
Said we’ve got the mountain-side deep in our blood.
But rivers they bend and the timber it dies,
And the truth is a shadow that lives in your eyes.
(Chorus)
Oh, the long road is winding, the long road is cold,
It swallows the young and it spits out the old.
And you can’t outrun what you carry inside,
No matter how fast or how far you can ride.
We build up our castles on shifting gray sand,
Then wonder why water slips out of our hand.
(Verse 3)
The clock on the dashboard is ticking past three,
The pine trees are stretching like giants to me.
I stopped at a diner near Tillamook Bay,
Where the coffee tastes bitter, the faces look gray.
The waitress had lines near the edge of her smile,
She said, "Son, you look like you've walked for a mile."
I told her I’m driving to where the land ends,
To see if the ocean can make my amends.
(Verse 4)
Because love isn't quiet, and love isn't kind,
It’s a anchor we cast in the dark of the mind.
I remember the kitchen, the yellowing walls,
The sound of the silence that walks through the halls.
We traded our promises, piece after piece,
For a heavy suitcase that would bring no release.
You wanted the anchor, I wanted the sail,
And we both ended up at the end of the rail.
(Chorus)
Oh, the long road is winding, the long road is cold,
It swallows the young and it spits out the old.
And you can’t outrun what you carry inside,
No matter how fast or how far you can ride.
We build up our castles on shifting gray sand,
Then wonder why water slips out of our hand.
(Bridge)
And the fog rolls in from the edge of the world,
Like a canvas of white that has slowly unfurled.
I can’t see the white lines, I can’t see the track,
And there’s too many miles to be turning on back.
Is it freedom I’m holding, or just an empty space?
Is it your memory, or just a generic face?
The engine is roaring, the tires they scream,
And I’m caught in the middle of someone else's dream.
(Verse 5)
Now the sky is turning a pale shade of lead,
The storm clouds are breaking right over my head.
I pull to the shoulder where the cliffs meet the sea,
Where the waves are colliding, untamed and so free.
The engine goes quiet. The rain starts to clear.
The ghost in the passenger seat disappear.
I step to the edge where the cold water breaks,
Counting up every single mistake.
(Outro)
Three hundred miles.
The air smells of salt.
It wasn't yo
nony_i
