Truck Song

Rumbling trucks on the highway, the hiss of tyres in the rain. A roll of

distant thunder and the lonesome moan of a train.

                                                                             

       

 A million stars, no moon. The breeze comes up through the pines. But the

highway never seems to sleep. I guess it’s a sign of the times.

 It’s always darkest before the dawn. Waiting for the morning light to show

the road going on and on, down endless highways, out of sight.