Pete McDonald: Music

On the Radio

(Pete McDonald)

2005-11-13

Well I woke up with the memory of the sun setting orange
On the Utah canyons and the land so worn
From the blowing winds that were bringing in the storm
On the back of Apollo, it was a summer so warm

Yeah and we drove through that mad scene
The motorcycle riders passed us like a surreal dream
They were tall and lean with leather all around
And skeleton faces, oh they looked so mean

They were trying to beat the rain
We were trying to drive away the pain
Holding in our laughter trying to hold hands together
But oh, oh, oh, oh, things just weren’t the same

And in those times, you know, there was nothing decent on the radio
So we braced our minds for how far we had to go
And back then, you see, nothing beautiful could last for me
But hear me now, I’m trying to break free

Well I wound up back home in the summer’s stare
It was the same small town, but it felt like nowhere
Guess every country boy’s got that load to bear
Like it’s piled on your soul and in the clothes you wear

And I was sick of cul de sacs with screwed up names
For the life they destroy and the land they change
Well there’s far too much to try to rearrange
I was thinking these times just seem so strange

And you were gone to the concrete lands
With those urban people that I wanna understand
And I was pining for you and the canyon sand
So I tried to block it out with a rock n’ roll band

Cause it was time, you know, to try to put something decent on the radio
To reach out to you and let you know
That we could move along listening to the sweet sounds of a Midwest song
That makes you want to stay up until the dawn

And just over there where the sun used to be
In the silhouettes of locust trees
A child sleeps and as the night has its way
We leave the youthful pains of yesterday

Now I’m driving away from those walls of pain
And the sun dances through a quiet rain
Well it’s a shame the way sometimes life’s such a strain
But my hearts still pumping blood through my veins

And the wind is a like a lover’s hand
And the rocks still erode into the sand
And our feet still fall upon this land
With or without a conscious plan

And in these times, you know, there ain’t nothing decent on the radio
So we brace our minds for how far we’ve gotta go
And back then, you see,
nothing beautiful could last for me
But hear me now, I’m trying to break free.