Lost Highway

I do not walk for it's something I choose, There is no transportation, only dead mans' shoes; This empty highway is the path I tread, So cold and remote, all colour bled Before the white sun with no shadow cast, Beneath the full moon whan day has passed. I will not speak for who will receive? No gospels to preach for I do not believe; On the telegraph lines that sing overhead The black crows perch then drop down dead, Their corpses dust in less than a day, The darkest hearts all blown away. I never cry for it does no good, Nor harbour regrets even though I should, Dead stars shine down on me below, No longer existing, so what can they know? I just walk and walk the passage of time, I walk the narrowest, finest line...