They used to say I was born too late 

To ever take my turn 

Another said ahead of my time 

An irony of birth 

And all I see before me is a road that stretches clear 

From here to kingdom come 

And all I know for sure is I am running still 

From those ghosts back in Weaverville 

Who knows why a man lives like he does 

We must believe there’s a hand 

That guides us all through this maze of make believe 

And something we don’t understand

Now there’s angels and demons in each of us 

We justí do the best we can 

And I’m still trying to rise above those hills 

I left back in Weaverville 

The sun settles down on a sleepy little town 

That time just passed on by 

We should... remember the good

And let go the rest 

But I guess I haven’t yet

So much of me is still tied to the past 

And that’s the truth of us all 

And no matter how far we might run 

We can’t escape that call 

Best to believe the future is better than the past 

And you can’t ever tell 

But I swear I don’t believe... I ever will 

Go back to Weaverville 

No I don’t think I ever will 

Go back to Weaverville...

Don Tolle 

© 1998, Tollesongs/ASCAP