To fly upon the back of steel
To ride into the risk of death, always,
Always, upon the edge of stormy days,
And to forget my mother’s worried glances.
One passenger, no luggage,
A life in the balance,
But free from the safety that would close me in
And keep me from the baking son
And the chapping wind.
I am alone in the world.
The past crumbles into dust behind me,
And no future promises anything
But the endless road,
And roachesÂ
In cheap hotels
That line the highway of my dreams.
