Echoes of the Toledo/Detroit commute from a small-town Ohio native who often wondered what he was doing in the big city.

Lyrics

Last night my words went above you
They drifted into the night sky
I discreetly was saying I love you
But now I don't know why I try

Sometimes when I wake in the morning
I can't figure how to begin
And I take this as some kind of warning
To go back and lie down again

You are the earth, you are the rain
You are the way I get joy out of pain
I know no one cares to hear me complain
but sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here

It sure does get dark on the highway
I can't see the road from the frost
and all of these people in my way
are looking for exits they've lost

And beds under interstate bridges
show up from the passing headlights
And it seems just that way for the lonely
to appear and then fade out of sight

You are the earth, you are the rain
You are the way I get joy out of pain
I'm sure no one cares to hear me complain
but sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here

I'll sit at a desk full of papers
and wait for day's end to come 'round
When I get to the Ohio border
I'll pull off the road and kiss the ground

You are the earth, you are the rain
You are the way I get joy out of pain
I know no one cares to hear me complain
but sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here