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Britt Kusserow
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The Road I'm On
There's a cabin on a hill,
you invited us to stay,
overlooking fog, embracing Mount Pirongia.
And the names of little towns
that I've learned to pronounce
still mean less to me
than what's perceived arcadia.
Oh, Atua!
Please believe me when I say
'I never meant to give up on the song.'
It's a long way home.
Maybe home is gone,
but there's no road to travel
like the road I'm on.
No there's no road to travel
like the road I'm on.
There's a little college town
at the breaking of the day
and if you know just where to look
you'll see the evidence
of a certain group of friends now scattered to the winds.
Like Whistle Stop packed up and set the precedent.
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Oh, Atua!
Please believe me when I say
'in everything, let us have peace to build upon.'
It's a long way home.
Maybe home is gone,
but there's no road to travel
like the road I'm on.
No there's no road to travel
like the road I'm on.
Te Aroha,
which surpasses all my fears:
sometimes I think I've lost you
though you live in me.
It's a long way home
through the dark, cold dawn,
but there's no road to travel
like the road I'm on.
No there's no road to travel
like the road I'm on.
No there's no road to travel
like the road we're on.
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