There's roads round here that don't ever end; there's rights of way lead me astray - no I won't pretend. There's roads round here you couldn't know, and there's roads to wheres where you wouldn't ever go. I wouldn't want you to know them anyway. And I'm not talking about deception, just how things can get me down sometimes. No I'm not talking about a revolution, just how maybe turning round would be a way to get back home again. These towns are full of ghosts and girls from my less talkative days, and some of them still speak to me like they don't see the change in my face. We all hoped they'd sense my different ways; that boy has left the city where his body still remains. But I guess I want you to know about them anyway.