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