Old Chevelle

We pulled off of the highway, cause we had nowhere else to go
The sun was sinking fast, the Spanish moss was hanging low
The leaves had started falling, and that first cool September breeze
Was creeping straight into my spine, and through the old oak trees

When I feel that chill, in the autumn air
I can hear the wheels of that old Chevelle, I can smell her hair
I can almost touch, her trembling hand
When a night like this, it takes me back

We stacked pillows by the fireplace, took blankets off the bed
Stayed up to watch old movies, and talk of old regrets
The leaves had long since fallen, and that cold December breeze
Rattled through the maple trees, as we drifted off to sleep

When I feel that chill in the morning air
I can see the snow on the window sill, I can smell her hair
There's nothing close, that I've found yet
To waking up to the sound of her breath

I'm not trying to remember her, as I drive beside the rivers edge
But when the moon creeps through the willow trees, on a night like this
I'm not trying to forget

With the slightest chill, in the evening air
I can hear the wheels of that old Chevelle, I can smell her hair
I rarely miss, the touch of her hand
Leading me far away from home
Until a night like this takes me back