Old 41

Leaving the freeway, this one lane will lead me back home

A natural direction just pulls me along down this road

Ever returning to where every journey’s begun

Wrapped in the fog and the kick dirt of Old 41

 

Here on the bend see the herons glide over the trees

Guiding me on to the place I can do as I please

 

Hundreds of miles past the bridge and a hundred to go

And every mile has a reason to carry me home

Roll down the windows and leave them to linger undone

Wrapped in the fog and the kick dirt of Old 41