
This is why I waste away and turn
away, the ballerina spin without
music or the meter measured or
the 4/4 time, without the time:
to read the ink, learn the words
or speak the tongue, to drive
down this prarie highway and
live my life. You're passenger
seat: shotgun - always better. Sit
back and enjoy the street signs,
scenery, stop lights and on
ramps. Press your face on the
glass and be carried through life
by this driver: eye wide as sunset
grassland sky or weary eyed on
night time glow in glass tower
traffic. Always look forward,
follow nothing but the headlights
and the yellow line, try and find
your Emerald City with wizard
who will never be there. And so
I sit on this quicksand curb with
tangos and waltzes spinning my
head, making me turn as I stare
at the grill, the bumper, the
wheels and try to decided which
door to pick.