Peter Mulvey Follow

Out here, when you light a smoke on the porch, you can hear the paper burning.

The moon is the only light. In the silence you can hear it turning.

And down over the ridge, by the highway, you hear the cars come and fade.

It's like that out here -- you can hear things for miles, oh, and miles away.

Out here I make the only human light.

I am the only human sound.

It's my privilege to lie awake at night and think of what I've lost, and hope for what might be found.

Out here you find out who your friends are, when the dark has come to kill the day.

There's an ache in every corner of the heart for the ones who are miles away.

Out here there's always work to be done, and I do what I can.

Came down to the choice: love or run -- I ran.

Burn til we come, get ahold on my heart and squeeze -- I will long for your touch.

Wonder what kind of fool am I -- why'd I leave it if I loved it so much?

I call you on the phone, struggle for the words to say -- swear I am working on what keeps me miles away.

Out here it's not as bad as I tell it.

You got your rocks, got your rivers, got your trees..

Nothing comes easily, but what comes has brought at last a little peace.

Out here it's so silent.. you can hear your heart talk.

One day that heart might tell you which way to go.. you might start walking.

Know that I will, know that I will, know that I will, know that I will, know that I will, know that I will, know that I will, you know that I will, know that I will, know that I will, you know that I will, you know that I will, know that I will...

Out here when you light a smoke on the porch, you can hear the paper burning.

The moon is the only light.. I hear it turning.