Wednesday, September 27, 2006


Each day you travel further
down that road from me;
with every mile I’m fading,
a rear-view memory.
You passed a sign that pointed
your way to what might be;
that far horizon promised
it would set you free.

In the end you’re only looking
to survive,
and there’s nothing left to do
but drive.

Across the desert distance
I can hear the song –
your radio turned high,
your engine running strong.
Each elusive echo
tells our story wrong;
yesterday is dust
and the road is long.

In the end there’s nothing left
but to survive,
nothing left for you
but to drive.

I say I still believe
though faith left long ago;
I know I’ve lost forever
but can not let it show.
I wonder how far down
this highway you will go;
should I ask the wind
how long it’s going to blow?

Stephen Brooke ©2006

A song lyric I've been tinkering with off-n-on for a while. Probaby about as far as it's going to go for now.

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