Over the rise the reflectors guide me on this night highway
Looking down on the sleepy town like stars in the Milky Way
In ’85 she came alive and sparked my wandering ways
But the winds were strong and the days were long for this romantic runaway

Over the rise no signal can stop me because the route is my own way
I’m a troubadour of sorts, it’s only time I extort, living years in the month of May
Like authors will suspended still in sounds that secretly say
As time goes by and as people die, the words they write remain

Over the rise an eternity behind me in streams of the bluest bays
Filled with hopes so swift and of dreams adrift, like wakes in the waterways
Remember the time toasting Belgian wine to women and their ways
And of love and sex and of peace ‘til death and to glory without delay

Over the rise our futures lie on an island of castaways
Where Emerson and Thoreau and Robinson Crusoe memorialize our days
In 2081 our sons of sons will ponder their yesterdays
And the nights and songs, and their rights and wrongs, and of God and sacred ways