Jeff Finlin

Idaho

Jeff Finlin


There's a road it's said 
That's claimed ten thousand dead 
Marked in blood and bones 
And crosses in the snow 
The hills up there 
No they haven't a care 
Whether you live or die 
Or how fast you go 
Idaho 

Well the people and their plans 
Were built in fryin' pans 
Filled with taters and ham 
And big sky gold 
They say above the clouds 
That you can scream out loud 
And it never makes a sound 
If you're falling all alone 
Idaho 

There was nothing I could do for you 
'Cept crossing our love from my past 
And as that border draws near 
I can almost see through  
The tears 
As I make my way over the pass 

Papa Hemingway died there 
Blow-drying his hair 
And the earth never blinked while he froze 
So if you think you make a damn 
To the grand in the plan 
You better take another look at the show 
They got in Idaho