0:00 / 0:00
A sparse acoustic song from the loneliest stretch of the drive home: man truly alone and on his own for the first time in his life, watching a Montana sky hold a storm and the sun at the same time. The discovery that you can be lonesome and fine all at once, and that neither one cancels the other. The first quiet tilt toward the West that's waiting up ahead.
Lyrics
[Verse 1] Two thousand miles of quiet, just the open road and me Used to have someone to say it to, now I just let it be Somewhere out past the last town, the whole sky tore in half Rain coming down on the left, and the right side bright as glass [Chorus] Storm to the north, sun to the east One sky big enough to hold them both Turns out you can be lonesome and fine all at once Both of 'em true, under a Montana sky [Verse 2] Watched the rain come down and never reach the ground Fell a mile out of a hard sky and gave up halfway down Reminded me of people, won't say their names out loud Everybody spills, but not everybody wets the ground [Chorus] Storm to the north, sun to the east One sky big enough to hold them both Turns out you can be lonesome and fine all at once Both of 'em true, under a Montana sky [Bridge] Been mailing home the bright version, sun's out, I'm alright The kind of fine you write, so nobody worries at night But this is the other kind, the kind that takes you by the hand and doesn't have to hide The kind that lives inside. [Final Chorus] Storm to the north, sun to the east One sky big enough to hold them both Turns out you can be lonesome and fine all at once Both of 'em true, under a Montana sky [Outro] Just me and the road and a sky that don't care Turns out that's the kindest thing out there