A D AI come from a long line, high low and in between, same as you.
A D AHills of golden, miles of poison time's thrown me through.
A D AAnd I believe I've come to learn that turnin' round is to become confusion,
G D Dm AAnd the gold's no good for spendin', and the poison's hungry waitin'.
What can you leave behind, when you're flyin' lightnin' fast and all alone?
Only a trace my friend, spirit of motion born and direction grown.
A trace that will not fade in frozen skies, and your journey will be.
And if a shadow don't seem much company, well who said it would be?
There is a highway, and the homemade lovin' kind, the highway's mine.
And we ramblers get the travelin' down, you fathers build with stones, that stand and shine.
Heaven's where you find it and you can't take too much with you.
But Daddy, don't you listen, it's just this highway talkin'.
All things that are alive, are brothers in the soil, and in the sky.
And I believe it with my blood, if not my eyes.
I don't know why we can't be brothers here, I know we should be.
And the answers don't seen easy, and I'm wondering if they could be.
Thanks Townes, rest in peace my brother.