Lyrics

He has a trailer
And a rusty Cadillac
But he feels like that old bike
Spinning its wheels in the air
On the roof rack

And he has a TV
Propane refrigerator
All the joys of home
Except of course for one he's alone

And he can't believe he's on this road
With his domicile in tow
And these things he's packing
He could never bring too much
Confusing what he clutches
With what he's lacking
What he's lacking

He has a post card
Wishing you were here
Some day he'll mail it out
Once he's addressed
This envelope of doubt

And he can't believe he's on this road
With his domicile in tow
And these things he's packing
He could never bring too much
Confusing what he clutches
With what he's lacking
What he's lacking

Breakfast in her kitchen Sundays
Her conversation with his meals
The feeling he belongs
To something
The very fact he feels
The very fact he feels

She has a garden
Tends it every day
Kneels out in the sun
Prays that this one seed
Won't blow away