Idaho

Idaho

Nerina Pallot

In the back of a car

on a road in the dark

In the stillicide,

silently falling snow

I have packed everything

that I own in a bag

And I'm driving,

I'm driving to Idaho.

A poem for leaving,

a reason to go

So I'm driving,

I'm driving to Idaho

Cause I can't be

anyone but me,

anyone but me.

And I can't keep

dreaming that I'm free,

dreaming that I'm free

I don't want to fall asleep

and watch my life from fifty feet

My hands are on the wheel

so I'm driving to Idaho.

Cause I hear it's mighty pretty...

And oh, I've been dumb,

I've been perfectly beautiful

Lain on my back

buying lovers with stealth.

But I'm sick of you all,

and I'm sick of opinions

And I'm sick of this war

I wage on myself...

I don't know why

I'm so gripped to go there –

A universe riddle that only I know?

Mr Robert he says,

‘It's all in the head!'

Tell me, Phaedrus,

what's good, is it Idaho?

Cause I can't be

anyone but me,

anyone but me.

And I can't keep

dreaming that I'm free,

dreaming that I'm free

I don't want to fall asleep

and watch my life from fifty feet

My hands are on the wheel

so I'm driving to Idaho.

Cause I hear it's mighty pretty...

Cause I can't be

anyone but me,

anyone but me.

And I can't keep

dreaming that I'm free,

dreaming that I'm free

I don't want to fall asleep

and watch my life from fifty feet

My hands are on the wheel

so I'm driving to Idaho.

I don't want to fall asleep

and watch my life from fifty feet

My hands are on the wheel

so I'm driving to Idaho.

Cause I hear it's mighty pretty...

In Idaho.

FIN