how many miles until i get out of this rectangular box of hell?   because these four same faces   in these overcrowded spaces   have me praying for the places   that will leave me one minute to myself   (along with)   the foreheads glued to window-panes,   the sore-backs from kitchen-wood floors,   and all the sitting, sitting, sitting in a van - yet i still want more?      when there's a million more miles to roam   i think of the life left for me back home:   a "paradise" to watch their "greener grass" grow   and all the time to be alone...?      but two weeks home cripple me   because the trees don't pass   and the lines don't move   as the white walls collapse   on my ramblin' boy blues that's howlin   howling for that open road because   no arms can hold   no home can warm   like the gaze at the rays of a distant lost-highway sun.      when there's a million more miles to roam   i think of the life left for me back home:   a "paradise" to watch their "greener grass" grow   and all the time to feel alone.      pave paradise   put the keys in   turn the engine   let the big green van drive me form this city,   to anything but simplicity.      to anywhere from this city,   to anything but simplicity.