Down the dusty Mill Lane there's no grain left to grind
And the old Farmer's Road left with no hay to bind
No sign of the families that once lined these roads
Foundations hidden in fields overgrown
The School Road is quiet- no laughter resounds
The buses ride past it with kids bound for town
They can't walk to school for their schoolhouse is gone
A lone rusty swing-set still sways on the lawn
These back roads are richer than highways so smooth
Old stories are woven within every groove
On these tired little lanes, only road signs remain
For you can't put a place to the name
No you can't put a place to the name
There's a wharf at the end of the Cannery Road
Where wind-weathered shanties still wait for the loads
The old folks remember the cannery days
When boats full of lobster sailed in to the bay
These back roads are richer than highways so smooth
Old stories are woven within every groove
On these tired little lanes, only road signs remain
For you can't put a place to the name
No you can't put a place to the name
Down the old Station Road rides a boy on a bike
He stops by the trailside and picks up a spike
A piece of the railroad he clutches with care
A ghost whistle howls in the cool evening air
Tonight as I drift down this highway so smooth
I pass by the back roads, their dusty red grooves
On these tired little lanes, only road signs remain
For you can't put a place to the name
No you can't put a place to the name