The shadows sink into the hills The fences go on forever In my hands I'm turning over A bracelet that she wore But she won't wear it anymore The truck stops all start to look the same I swear I saw that chain smoking lady again Keep on moving I think I'm good for A hundred miles more Could things ever be how they were before? A scent left on a sweater Stuffed inside a dresser A Polaroid that slips Underneath your eyes Pieces of different puzzles Mixed up in the same box And thrown into the blue