Drifter

Dirt kicking high, building chunks behind the mud flaps
Snow flakes fall from the sky, causing ice inside the hub caps
Driver tired and lonely, heart pounding, his head is aching
Loved one gone, somewhere else, her bed is shaking
But both ignore their betrayals, stale with medication
Another shot out, locked out, to a special girl with this dedication
He drives, lost in street lights and a dark background
Neighborhoods of violence, sex, drug park crackdowns
The head lights steer him, but he still hits the walls like a blind dog
He listens to am radio at night hoping he can some day find god
A white man in the black nights, on the run like a filipino
Old school punk, tattoos, chains, shit he’d probably kill an emo 
El camino man on the road leaving his life in high gravity
Up there with the stars, so charged after he found the right batteries
Riding so far off into the sunset he could literally feel the burn
Sianora past, at last the man can live life without any real concerns

Jose, jack, captain and remy to him make up the dream team
Mixed all that with an open road and some old school springsteen
Benevolence, worries irrelevant, common sense seems intelligent
He says fuck a life being selebant, sin just for the hell of it
Road dog, wild buck in a semi truck mentally writing this graphic novel
Taking dips of copenheagen and spitting it right in his plastic bottle
He’s not news trendy, not to friendly like fox news or MSNBC
He doesn’t like any of it, he wouldn’t even congest mtv
But he’s fast as a bison, running off of gas that is siphoned
Going nowhere, just fighting for peace, modern day clash of the titans
Some nights when he’s alone he’ll just scream and let the horn blow
Or pull over to truck stops and lose himself in a world of sex and porno
Trailing the blaze, failing to stay out of the line of fire
Being nothing more than another lost sock behind the dryer
Road hog, oh god, sometimes its hard finding the stray light
Riding the highways, a mar, he’s just a star trying to stay bright

Drives all night, rides alright, engine so hot it could pop kernels
Hot thermals ventilating through the night as if he was nocturnal
Giving sound a vision and his sight a vivid second angle
Opening his senses to his surroundings like a independent record label
Truck full of empty bottles and dried up orange peels
Roads full of empty forests and dead, silent corn fields
Sometimes cars pass by in the opposing lane
Faceless head lights flash, stomach turns like growing pains
Passing strangers, so many questions he has for these people’s lives
Lasting anger, so many obsessions he hides with these evil eyes
Late night motels, no vacancy looking for a bed to share
Dead aware it’s a sickening life to live with out any medicare
But god never said its fair, heck he don’t even have a full head of hair
Just a 16 wheeler with thousands of miles to shred the spares
Free bird, feeling like a star until he starts to see them
Just another piece of abstract creativeness belonging to an art museum

Shifting gears, listen here, shits getting weird like lyndsey lohan
He’s becoming a skinny old man blowing smoke like a chimney smoke stand
Traveling or chilling on porches listening to the king play the banjo
Bringing together small town hospitality like green bay and lambo
So long LA, go long john elway, admiral with no collateral
Scared second string half back waiting to throw a lateral
So many questions in his life but no time to ask for answers
So many fake things in the world but he don’t mind the flash and glamour
The times he’s been alone staring or walking the seashores at night
Or sat in a mountain bar listening to the harmony of keyboards and mics
He needs more in life before he finds a rock and goes under
Throws away his identity, sells his home and changes his phone number
So the road becomes his ticket, a mother fucker with big plans
Another trucker riding something that doesn’t need a pussy kick stand
On the road, gone from home, on a journey like lord of the rings
It’s more than a dream, peaceful two fingers playing the chords and the strings

Turn on the radio and all you get is the prayer, the predator,
The mayor, the senator, disclaimers and editors
The constant talk radio makes his eyes squint like mike tysons face
When times get tough, sometimes he just might swipe license plates
Token of life, some say take it, some say give it
Open his eyes, mundane hatred, one way ticket
Looking at the stars, taking the wrong information
Girls hooking at the bars, playing their songs in rotation
Juke box money shot, so much dancing her flesh is chaffing
Mind full of runny snot, undercover investigation