[Intro | dusty Wurlitzer leading, steady rolling groove from the first bar, warm male vocal, conversational] Two hours out. Seven o'clock. Third house past the church, she says. I've never been. [Verse 1 | warm conversational male vocal, half-spoken, Wurlitzer and bass in the pocket, guitar sparse] My hands take the turn before I ask them to. Third exit. I've never had to count. The garage where I learned to lie about my age. The field that floods every spring. She's got her feet up on the dash. She told me weeks ago not to worry about the dog. [Chorus 1 | Hammond organ enters and swells, groove fills out, vocal opens up, warm and lifted] You're here beside me now, and still a call away. I find you like the morning finds the day. The map is clean and kind. It's just never been outside. It puts the whole world in my hand. I know exactly where I am. I just don't know where we stand. [Verse 2 | back to restraint, vocal close and conversational, spare economical guitar licks] Past the last name I know, the signs go quiet. Twenty years ago this was just called being lost. Somebody would draw it on the back of a receipt and get the second turn wrong. The voice says: in eight hundred metres, keep left. I keep left. [Chorus 2 | Hammond swells fuller, groove deepens, vocal more urgent, guitar answering] You're here beside me now, and still a call away. I find you like the morning finds the day. The hour keeps changing its mind. It swears that we'll arrive. It swore the same at five. I know exactly what we planned. I just don't know where we stand. [Verse 3 | softest verse, Wurlitzer and bass only, vocal tender and low, leave space] She sits up somewhere after the second bridge. Starts naming things before we get to them — the barn with the blue door, the bend where her brother put a car in the ditch, the hill you can see the house from, if it's clear. Her hands stay in her lap. [Bridge | groove continues quietly underneath, everything else drops away, vocal alone and unhurried, long pauses between lines, leave space] She says: take the next left. The voice hasn't said anything yet. And I wait. One second. Maybe two. Long enough to count. Long enough for both of us to notice. Then the voice says it: take the next left. [Verse 4 | groove settles back in, guitar and Wurlitzer sparse, vocal quiet and still] Gravel. A dog. Someone already at the door. I put it in park and the voice says: you have arrived. She's out before I am. I sit a moment in a car that isn't moving, in a place I could not find on my own and will never have to. [Chorus 3 | fullest, Hammond wide open, guitar answering the vocal, voice at its most exposed] You're here beside me now, and I'm a call away. I'm found the way the morning finds the day. I'll never once be lost. I'll never know the ground. They'll put the whole world in my hand. I'll always know exactly where I am. And always have to ask you where we stand. [Outro | instrumental, Wurlitzer and clean guitar trading quietly, groove winding down, warm natural fade] [End]
