Riding through nostalgia, shaking memories by the mile   the city lights are closing in on him   the distance grows shorter for a while      He wonders what dreams fill her heart   and wonders if what they had could ever be sparked   "The roads never lead where they're supposed to go,"   that's what he tells himself before he lets it go.      Out on the cold grey plain, sunken on the side of the   road   the words bleed off the page, the letter becomes   well-soaked   "No more turning backwards," he says, as he drives off   in the rain   ventures on up through the Colorades and settles under   the rock   and pines, and stakes claim      Still he wonders what what dreams fill her heart   and wonders if what they had could ever be sparked   the roads never lead where they're supposed to go      They just twist 'round and 'round the flame   the eyes closing, the heart retains   a bit of a spark before it fades away   that's where he gets lost and drifts off alone   and what he tells himself..."Better let it go."