Written at the Mark Twain Hotel in Hollywood in 2004 or 5, probably, while pacing the room with a notebook and pen watching people walking by the post office across the street, "No Destination" is my farewell love letter to L.A.  It is a wistful goodbye kiss blown to an indifferent lover from a tired, empty hand.

Thanks for listening.

No Destination

The time has come
to head on down the line
there ain't no love
on Hollywood & Vine

The stars are empty
in the sky
the streets don't need me
the well is dry

I bought a ticket
for a Greyhound bus
just my guitar
and a pocket full of dust

Maybe go to New York City
maybe go home
as long as it takes forever
as long as I'm alone

Gotta keep them wheels
rollin' under me
coast to coast
that's where I'll be

I don't need my baby
I don't need no plans
no destination
no helping hands

The palm trees are shining
in the sun
we had some hard times
we had some fun

We lived like kings
underfed and oversexed
I'll be home in time for Christmas
or whichever holiday is next

© Nathan Payne
Mark Twain Hotel
Hollywood