Down the dusty Mill Lane there's no grain left to grind And the old Farmer's Road left with no hay to bind No sign of the families that once lined these roads Foundations hidden in fields overgrown The School Road is quiet- no laughter resounds The buses ride past it with kids bound for town They can't walk to school for their schoolhouse is gone A lone rusty swing-set still sways on the lawn These back roads are richer than highways so smooth Old stories are woven within every groove On these tired little lanes, only road signs remain For you can't put a place to the name No you can't put a place to the name There's a wharf at the end of the Cannery Road Where wind-weathered shanties still wait for the loads The old folks remember the cannery days When boats full of lobster sailed in to the bay These back roads are richer than highways so smooth Old stories are woven within every groove On these tired little lanes, only road signs remain For you can't put a place to the name No you can't put a place to the name Down the old Station Road rides a boy on a bike He stops by the trailside and picks up a spike A piece of the railroad he clutches with care A ghost whistle howls in the cool evening air Tonight as I drift down this highway so smooth I pass by the back roads, their dusty red grooves On these tired little lanes, only road signs remain For you can't put a place to the name No you can't put a place to the name