The Road

THE ROAD

Yeah, I've been from coast to coast,
And seen the signs on every post.
In Mississip and New Orleans,
I talked to old black men with faded dreams.
I listened to reggae music in Daytona Beach,
And danced with rich people with shiny teeth.

I followed the road up and down
And let her lead me all around.
She showed me cotton fields and magnolia trees,
And how it feels in a hurricane breeze.

I've eaten fish along New Hampshire's rocky shore,
And stood in silence at Gettysburg,
Wondering when we'd make war no more.
She took me into the desert sands;
I played guitar atop an Arizona painted mound,
It seemed like the whole universe heard the sounds.

And yet, it could not be,
For things would be different left up to me.
Not the beauty of our land,
Just the sadness inside of man.
The plains, fields, and mountain streams
Have all been placed here for us it seems.

And yet, we still deny the truthful terms
Of all the lessons we've had to learn.
I met an Okie once, who fixed my truck,
Shook my hand and wished me luck.

These pure moments I sometimes find
Are the plain truths behind my rhymes.
So if you're still burdened with a heavy load,
Take a hobo's advice and try the road.


How about another:

ID: 1368931   (Rated: E) This Land is Your Land  An tribute to one of my hobo heros. by Coolhand