Tyler R. Martin
This long road’s empty, eyes are heavy
But my hands they don’t shake anymore.
There’s a fleeting bliss with the background playing
The songs that all drivers adore;
With the tires in tune with the pavement
And both hum in sweet Harmony,
My Volks sings bass in background
Knowing my folks back home wait for me.
I blister this long road at 90,
My knuckles are white on the wheel
And I pray to the God in whom I don’t believe
That cops will know just how I feel
As the tires, engine, pavement and speakers
Create a chorus in the charm of a midnight trek,
Recounting a drive, I’ve made a dozen before,
But babe this time I’m not going back.
bourbon, cigarettes and syllables 