Stole a page out of the atlas in your den Marked a route, random in blue-ink ball point pen You and me, albuquerque Will keep the winters from ruining your car Head out towards the clear, southern hemisphere Until we reach the coast Past the sands, the cities and second-hand antiques Weeks pass on, better to go then get cold feet Don't be shy, the california sky Won't fall if we change our course Turn and chase the dawn, while we whisper on About what we miss the most You were born at exactly the right time Born to change these static ways of mine