slowly hypnotized by the yellow lines,
and with so long to ride,
I can close my eyes,
to see birds pulling at the skin of road kill,
to see a twisted tree,
aflame in a burnt out field,
I can see an old man coughing,
a haggard, macabre cough,
trying to breathe through his tears,
trying to make sense now,
trying to find meaning,
to their preaching,
that life is beautiful,
a bonus,
when all he feels is alone in this,
in his thrownness,
through his tears he can see,
the credits rolling up,
for him, you and me,
I close my eyes to see,
...the rider.
