I'm buckle in my seat belt and plug my headset in a chair

And to the music, I watch flight attendants move

They are pointing out the exits, but it looks more like a prayer

Or an ancient dance their bloodline reaches through.

These planes are built for sifting through the warriors from the men

I've got time to sit and watch them for a while

You can see everywhere they're going, everywhere they've been

And how they look out at the clouds each time they smile.

And I think, maybe he's in town for someone's birthday

Maybe he makes trouble everywhere

But as much he resists the conversation between the rivers and the freeways

He knows it's always there.

As the northwest passage sits somewhere below me as I sleep

I dream of captains and explorers eating boots

When I ask if I can join them and they offer one to me

I wake up as my home comes into view.

So I reach out down for my notebook to see what impressions could be spun

But it's just buildings and a million swimming pools

So I leaf back through the pages to see where I am from

Or for some crumbling map of what it's leading to.

And I find that the hero in this song that I am writing

Doesn't know he's just an image of myself

But as much he resists the conversation between the rivers and the freeways

He's somehow always asking them for help.

I want to make out all the signs I've been ignoring

How the trees reach for the sky or in the length of someone's hair

'cause when you don't know where you are going

Any road will take you there.

So maybe I'm in town for someone's birthday

Maybe I make trouble everywhere

But as much I resist the conversation between the rivers and the freeways

I know it's always there.