Counting the Cars

I was born and I’ll die, sentenced to life. I’ll do as much time as I can. A cage painted white holds as much hope as a wedding dress wrapped in barbed wire. If I free my mind, I’d thumb a ride with each car that comes into view. Imagine a road that goes anywhere! And I just wanna go home. An hour every day, every day of the week, rain, shine, or Texarkana heat. My time is told watching the road, counting the cars go by. I wake up and eat, work, and then sleep, and suffer the space in between. I may dare to dream, but nothing good grows in a garden of steel and concrete. No letters, no calls, no one at all since mama must’ve passed away. If only I knew that restless and bored weren’t the worst things a kid can go through. An hour every day, every day of the week, rain, shine, or Texarkana heat. My time is told watching the road, counting the cars go by. Sometimes I pray I’m treated the same as an old pair of leather boots. ‘Cause even a shoe gets a new sole when the old one’s been worn through. An hour every day, every day of the week, rain, shine, or Texarkana heat. My time is told, watching the road, counting the cars go by.