Telephone Booth

Ian Moss

I can't hide it,

so good to be here.

Lost in transit,

out on a free year.

There's no truth,

eyeing me sideways.



Just a telephone booth,

on a highway.



I ain't hiding,

there's been no breakdown.

Where I'm aiming,

I see the sundown.

One horizon,

eyeing me sideways.



Just a telephone booth,

on a highway.



Everything for miles,

is high on the silence.

Everything's my way.



Where I'm calling,

there's no religion.

No-one falling,

my absolution.

Is all truth,

eyeing me sideways.



In a telephone booth,

On a highway.



I stand ready,

for any new direction.

That the sun may lead me down.

Everything for miles,

is high on the silence.

Everything's my way.



In a telephone booth,

On a highway.