Intro:
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In the back of a car on a road in the dark 
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In the stillicide, silently falling snow 
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I have packed everything that I own in a bag 
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And I'm driving, I'm driving to Idaho 

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A poem for leaving, a reason to go 
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So I'm driving, I'm driving to Idaho 

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'Cause I can't be anyone but me, anyone but me 
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And I can't keep dreaming that I'm free, dreaming that I'm free 
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I don't want to fall a-sleep and watch my life from fifty feet 
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My hands are on the wheel so I'm driving to Ida-ho 

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'Cause I hear it's mighty pretty 

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And oh, I've been dumb, I've been perfectly beautiful 
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Lain on my back buying lovers with stealth 
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But I'm sick of you all, and I'm sick of opinions 
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And I'm sick of this war I wage on myself 

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I don't know why I'm so gripped to go there 
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A universe riddle that only I know? 
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Mr. Robert says, "It's all in the head!" 
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Tell me, Phaedrus, what's good, is it Ida-ho? 

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'Cause I can't be anyone but me, anyone but me 
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And I can't keep dreaming that I'm free, dreaming that I'm free 
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I don't want to fall a-sleep and watch my life from fifty feet 
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My hands are on the wheel so I'm driving to Ida-ho 

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'Cause I hear it's mighty pretty 

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'Cause I hear it's mighty pretty... 
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in Ida-ho.