I can keep driving through the night all day,
I tell myself, radio playing Dylan tunes.
I can hold back the emptiness I feel inside.
I've vowed to not stop, or give hitchhikers a ride
no matter how lonesome I am. I fear the loons,
signs that say "Trust Me," or gams flashed in such a way.
I have no idea where I'm going and don't care.
I've been running on fumes, but it's all downhill now.
I haven't seen the day in ages, full moons light
the long path to my destiny, ever out of sight,
and when Dylan sings, you can always lose more -- wow!
vast clouds of black roses with lightning stems draw near.
I was in a coma once, but did not know
until the bulb undimmed; and I heard the river flow.
