I gotta Western way of leaving
A southern style of believing
My Northern star for living, a weathered intuition
To fill the rear-view mirror
With miles of Eastern pines
I got no direction, if I can’t call you mine
Coffee’s cold and the diner’s getting loud
The angel in my ear says lets break out of this crowd
It’s time to go, well that ain’t nothing new
So I’ll just head on out of view, down the road a stone or two
With my Western way of leaving
Southern style of believing
My Northern star for living, a weathered intuition
To fill the rear-view mirror
With miles of Eastern pines
But I got no direction, If I can’t call you mine
If you’re gone, don’t be gone for good
I’d turn back the time, every morning if I could
so here I lay, watch the fan blade cut a breeze
I dust off your memory, cuz I can’t change what’s come to be
I gotta Western way of leaving
A southern style o’ believing
My Northern star for living, a weathered intuition
To fill the rear-view mirror
With miles of Eastern pines
I got no direction, If I can’t call you mine
I got no direction, If I can’t call you mine
