There’s a trailer in the parking lot, it’s got a cook top counter and a fold down cot

Just waiting for us to climb up on it, hitch it to the back of your rust belt comet

And drive as far as these good feelings and them 6 tires will go

We’ll spend our nights feeding fires, under pear-shaped culverts and redwood spires

We’ll eat leftover meals from truck stop diners, siphon off wrecks and draft Freightliners

And steal what we need, but nothing anyone would miss

We’ll take on highways, underpaid watchmen, and strip mall billionaires

And rummage yard sale bins for cassette tape road trip fare

And do our best damn take on original sin

And do our best to remain in all the places we’ve been

There’d be a shiver in my chest and you’d inspire it, take it all apart and then rewire it

And find every good idea that I’ll ever have

We’ll take on the back roads, overfed lawmen, and strip club legionnaires

And scour surplus stores for camouflage war-worn rags

And do our best damn take on a deadly sin

And do our best to assure all the kith and kin

There’d be a sliver in my step and I swear you’d make good

On pulling it out just to peddle for firewood

And turn all my doubts to downhills

There’s a trailer in the parking lot, it’s got a Panel ray heater and a fold down cot

Just wish we had it in us to climb up on it, hitch it to the back of your rust-belt comet

And drive just as far as them 6 bald tires would go

© 2009 Shaun Cromwell