Lyrical

Lyrical

Ever wander across a song in your music collection, a song that you've probably owned for years and listened to a handful of times (if not dozens or even hundreds of times), and suddenly find it anew?

Maybe it's got something in the lyrics that appeals to you on that particular day, or it's got a riff that catches your ear for the first time.

But for whatever reason, it strikes your fancy when, for years, you'd ignored it?

That was tonight, as I wandered around downtown Athens on my walk....

Tonight, it was "No Roads Here," by the Corb Lund Band...

There are no roads here;
there are no signposts
to guide a man through this dark land.

There are no roads here;
There is no History,
No Written Law to stay one's hand.

Well there's a growed over wagon trail
that's headed for the west
There's a teepee ring out to Purple Springs
if your ponies need their rest

There's a shepherd out in Vauxhall
in the coulees who may know
But the sheep shack's old and leaning
and that was sixty years ago

Well, I see handcarts pulled by desperate settlers
bent under the yoke
Fleeing lives of certain serfdom
for this new faith of which he spoke

Trekking 'cross the desert
with a few intrepid Danes
There's times I still think I can feel
the blood of Vikings in my veins

I hear "Strawberry Roan" and there's
bison bones been bleached out in the sun
South of Raymond, whiskey trade,
the antelope still run

Hidden family reasons
at the edge of consciousness
Silhouettes of grazing cattle
on that olde Milk River Ridge

No real reason, except that I did wait for that line about trekkin' cross the desert and still feeling the blood of Vikings in my veins.

I like that one....