A change of mood A summer storm erased the sunny sky Two hapless hitchhikers were Signaling us As we were cursing by Not in the mood For idle chat or hitchhike company Nevertheless We took them on as highway courtesy Hurry get yourselves inside the truck We're just going up a ways The rain should turn to mist With any luck And you can find a place to stay The woman spoke Her voice a blend Of regional perfumes We have no destination The Moon and stars Provide us with our rooms My boy and me We're refugees of sorts From my home town They don't like different there They would have moved us down He doesn't talk much anymore Just to the voices in his head The boy just gazed down at the floor And nodded once or twice at what She said The sacred harp That david played to make his Songs of praise We long to hear those strings That set his heart ablaze The ringing strings The thought that God turns music Into bliss We left the pick-up in the driveway The Moon appeared as amber In the mist The lord is a puff of smoke Thar disappears when the winds blow The lord is my personal joke My reflection in the window The lord is my engineer The lord is my record producer The lord is the music I hear Deep in the valley, elusive The lord is my engineer The lord is the train I ride on The lord is the coast, the coast is clear The path I slip and I slide on