It’s that time of year, it happens at the start of every fall. The light from the sun and the moon are always set just perfect in the sky, light breezes with the tiniest nip of chill in them will catch my hair and check, leaves are turning those rich bouquets of orange, purple, scarlet, burgandy, and gold. All of it creating an ecstatic explosion in my mind. I have to concentrate all my attention to make my wheels take me home. The urge to move about and travel is so strong in me that I will wander my town, taking absurdly long ways home, circling blocks, just to keep drinking it all in. One of these days fall will no longer mean back to school and I’ll really be able to wander about.
The Road Is A Lover -Alison Krauss and Union Station
I met a man traveling down on the road, he looked me in the eyes, and he gave me a ring and he gave me a rose and he told me some gypsy lies.
The road is a lover you never recover not now or anytime soon. My head starts to spin when I think where I’ve been playing twin to an old fiddle tune, as the wind chases after the moon.
Through the kindness he showed me that day I gave him this melody, and we sang in duet ‘neath the stars in sky and the shadows of dancing trees.
The road is a lover you never recover not now or anytime soon. My head starts to spin when I think where I’ve been playing twin to an old fiddle tune, as the wind chases after the moon.
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