From the recording Traces
I had a good friend in high school who had a '58 Chevy Impala convertible (I had a "55 Chevy). On summer evenings we would ride the country roads where we grew up with the car in low gear (it was an automatic) and coast along those deserted roads. We never thought about the memories we created and what was to come in our lives.
Lyrics
Twilight burns down the late summer heat,
Country back road, young men feeling free,
Passing by horizons they don’t see, stretching out from that evening time.
Things held a promise of something new,
Life was lived one day at a time,
We had a front row seat to miracles, to us it seemed like words in the wind.
A 58’ Chevy, an old drop top, a “348” it would never stop.
In low gear, hands free, we coasted towards our lives to be,
And the traces we’d leave on our memory.
A place to go, a place to be, somewhere else was our reality,
Just browsing through time, it was slow enough,
No need to hurry we could cruise along.
On back roads we traveled to our main highways,
We found ourselves in visions of the day,
Gliding past horizons we learned to see traces of our lives to be.
A 58’ Chevy, an old drop top, a “348” it would never stop,
In low gear, hands free, we coasted towards our lives to be,
And the traces we’d leave on our memory.
And the traces we left on our memory,
And the traces we left on our memory.