作词 : Tamara Lindeman
 作曲 : Tamara Lindeman

 I remember the dry grass of Nebraska, grey to distant blue
 I stopped on hills like slumping shoulders; car cooling, I took off my shoes
 I drove out west with my sister – she talks more than I do
 When she fell silent, still I’d miss her
 The sound of the wind coming through
 I remember the smoky cups of coffee at the continental divide
 Mesas rose up there beside me. I felt like I’d arrived
 I walked on the streets of California in the wail of car alarms
 Men would shout out to me passing, a stranger with crossed arms
 I remember the subtlety of canyons, black by the roadside
 A cut in the rocks as I was passing, just a glimpse as you go by
 If there’s something you always are choosing – you may not recognise
 If there’s something you always are loosing – something disguised
 Lately I find myself lonely – I wouldn’t have called it that before
 I always took it as a comfort – what all the distance was for
 If you can’t leave clean as a statement – so true that you almost wince
 If you can’t leave, you get yourself taken – like a personal eclipse