2900
I've driven these same dirt roads
back and forth, over and over again.
The dust on my boots, the mud on my flaps
is the dirt left by my past that I considered a win.
Riding carefree with the windows down, sun in my face
unaware of the world around me and what's taking place.
Out here I'm free, free to be whoever I wanna be
not having to conform to the whims of society.
However, dirt roads still have have rules to follow
and when enforced my pride I must now swallow.
Like the truck in which I traveled these dirt roads so freely
I've been towed, impounded, now faced with a harsh reality.
I've asked myself, what does a captain and pilot both share?
A destination and a navigator to safety get them there.
Someone to plot the best path for the destined route
while planning for turbulence or an occasional water spout.
I commanded my vessels without any desired port
To me, this life was a race, a game, simply for sport
Dirt roads allowed me to take shortcuts and to cheat
however, life does not have a button marked repeat.
