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Written 1997-2000

lyrics

In the distance of a prodigal day
I meet a travelled, old talker who tells
Sings his lonliness, he doesn't have to say
He's caught under an age-old spell
Time melts in his hand, he's got a shiver in his eye
And the key to the city under his watchband
He says, "Hang around here in the street, boy
"Play til your feet are sore
"'Cause there ain't no highway anymore"

Amidst the reign of a meaningless dawn
I meet a weary, old hobo who weeps
And he shares me a secret in song
Before he hits the pavement and sleeps
Some utopia's gone, before I was born
The echoes of the ages, like a turkey through the corn
I can see it in a dream, and I can feel it in my fists
And everytime I hold it fast, it is lost in the mists
I'll let it seep in through the cracks and absorb it through my pores
But there ain't no highway anymore

In a backroom basement shelter I meet
An old hand mystery vision
And speaks to me with six silver strings
Knows the right path to every decision
But I'm lying to myself, 'cause it's a natural fact
History repeats, but the past don't come back
I can pretend it never left and put my faith in a dream
But I can see that world long ago burned off like steam
I can look back into history and wish for what came before
But there ain't no highway anymore

credits

from Eleven Coming Back, released June 12, 2001

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Rob Getzschman Los Angeles, California

Rob Getzschman is a singer-songwriter and producer from Omaha living in Los Angeles. He was previously front man for DC-based Analog Jetpack, played bass for LA's Highland Hawks and writes and produces music for Mighty Good Road. www.mightygoodroad.com

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