The Highway Is Where You Roam

The highway calls your heart,
But your ole soul is so low,
You pack up your sack, say goodbye,
It's so hard to part.

The highway is where you roam,
The highway is where you roam.

You're just a wanderer,
Can't stay, can't lay in one place,
The gaping hole in your soul,
Left life with strife and little wonder.

With no friends, hungry, lonely, cold,
Trudging down the road, sun blazing
In your eyes, back bent, legs aching,
Time goes on as the story is told.

The highway is where you roam,
The highway is where you roam.

The pretty girls cry,
The old ladys sing sad songs,
When you walk out of each town,
A new chapter written in the sky.

Left it all, you left it all behind,
Home, children, love, life,
Can't go home again,
Rover, nomad, your life redefined.

Home, is where you pitch your tent,
The highway is where you roam,
Someday, when your travels cease,
The soul to rest, no more torment.

The highway is where you roam,
The highway is where you roam.

BR Schoenbein
January 3, 2016- Sunday