There is a house so big and grand rising up through the sycamore trees
She rests her bones against the banks, down by old mill Creek.
My father Spent his whole life in debt, raising up his family;
Four kids and a wife in a big old house, down on Merriam Street.

In the summer as a child, the backyard stretched for miles to the edge of the known universe.
An infinite Eden, golden and green, for all of our adventures.
Funny how as you get older the world around you starts to shrink.
The world never seemed ever quite as big as it did down on Merriam Street.

When I was a young man, I thought I had to run from the life closing in on me
Something ‘bout those little home towns, can make feel so hard to breathe.
Thought I escaped, but I just lost my way; ten years alone in the pines.
Now I can hear something calling back home, calling me deep through the night.

Time somehow keeps rolling by like the water down old mill creek.
So many things have slipped through my hands ‘fore I knew what they were to me.
One day I’ll find passage back to that town with the sycamore trees
And from our hearth at my family’s side, never again will I leave.

But I work my fingers down to the bone, from dusk until the dawn.
Sometimes I fear I’ll work and work ‘til all my good days are gone.
And I wonder what my father would think of the life that I’ve come to lead,
‘cos I’m still searching through the dark for that house on Merriam Street.