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