There's a strange serenity in walking down a road barely touched by man's feet; aside a jet black river, coloured by the lights of the street and the infamous absence of the big old sun. I've got Nebraska in my ears, what's behind is in my fears. I've never so much in my nineteen years missed the warm wet feeling of tears.

Running down my face and running down my mind, like when rubber hits the road casting out dust behind. Tail lights disappear across the star spread sky, and I just keep on walking, walking by, with Nebraska in my ears. What's behind is in my fears. I've never so much in my nineteen years missed the warm wet feeling of tears.

You can cry all night or sleep all day. Drink, curse and fight, or simply run away, but after all that happens between sun and moon; judgement will be passed on you, pretty damn soon. I'm not saying it's too late, 'cause apparently there's a way to redeem yourself and lose your fate and avoid that price to pay but when you hear this song, please don't turn away; guilt and shame is written all over your face, when you hear this song, please hear what I say. No, no, no, don't call me a preacher of hell fire and brimstone, for I too grow weaker by the day - and I'm feeling far from worthy of his high golden throne, let alone the cold hard pews of old chapels o' stone. You can cry all night or sleep all day, drink curse and fight, or simply run away but when you hear this song, please hear what I say; guilt and shame is written all over my face. When you hear this song, please don't turn away. No, no, no, don't call me a preacher of hell fire and brimstone, for I too grow weaker by the day - and I'm feeling far from worthy of his high golden throne, no let alone the cold hard pews of old chapels o' stone. You can feel it in your bones, can't you? A taste of sweet salvation running through you. Could you take a second to answer me why, oh why Why can't I?