Forty Miles From Nowhere

It rained today, the clouds rolled up at dawn
All hell burst wide open and just like that was gone
Your little lapdog chased a fox tailed squirrel
Across the main road through the wood
Some ninja on a dirt bike nearly ran him down for good
Right about now it gets quiet around here, what with nightfall in the wings
The floorboards creak and faucets leak, but it's the emptiness that sings

The wind grows chill and then lies still
40 miles from nowhere
At the bottom of the world

November sky's a diamond-studded dome
A hundred billion points of light to guide my way back home
When the moon is hanging fat and full and all those jangly stars recede
A fold out couch on a midnight porch is where my footsteps lead

You always said I made my bed
40 miles from nowhere
At the bottom of the world

Friends don't call like they used to for reasons not unkind
If there's anything that we can do rings hollow down a telephone line

There's a cedar grove in back of the house, maybe halfway down the hill
A place to go and just lay low when there's time to fill
A few gravestones, a pre-civil war fence and the random arrowhead
Is where the beehive swarmed three summers ago, "Too wet," the old men said
So it's me your little lapdog and that old brindle cat trying to keep this place in line
And heading into town these days is the last thing on my mind

I weep for you
It's what I do
40 miles from nowhere
At the bottom of the world
40 miles from nowhere
At the bottom of the world