Lyric

You stood where the wheat gave up

Coat buttoned against the cold

Behind you the houses thinned

Into fences, dust, and poles

The evening held its breath

A copper line split the land

You raised one hand to the west

As if it might understand

If you go, leave the gate unlatched

Leave the porch lamp burning low

I’ll follow the road past the water tower

Where the tall grass bends and grows

If you go, don’t turn around

Let the last train take its time

There are places we haven’t named yet

And your footsteps still answer mine

A paper cup rolled through the weeds

A crow crossed over the grain

Your shadow reached toward the county road

Before you moved again

No promise fit in that hour

No prayer could make it stay

So I folded the map in my pocket

And watched the color drain away

If you go, leave the gate unlatched

Leave the porch lamp burning low

I’ll follow the road past the water tower

Where the tall grass bends and grows

If you go, don’t turn around

Let the last train take its time

There are places we haven’t named yet

And your footsteps still answer mine

Morning will find the empty field

Rain in the tire tracks

But every mile beyond this fence

Will know the way you came back

If you go, leave the gate unlatched

Leave the porch lamp burning low

I’ll follow the road past the water tower

Where the tall grass bends and grows

If you go, don’t turn around

Let the last train take its time

There are places we haven’t named yet

And your footsteps still answer mine

Your footsteps still answer mine