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Another sunburned morning and I’m right on track.
A moon howls at a sun behind it’s back
I will always love the interstate.

The youngest son learned mourning sometimes comes back.
She soon howls like the moon, fades into black
And they don’t always find their way.

They don’t mind.
As she rides, her sidecar rides.
Lead the way, side by side,
And together they move into
The strangest days,
The brightest nights.

After a sunset, morning when they lay their path.
The son howls at the moon, she has his back,
And they head into the day, a new way.

Another sunburned morning, their backs to the grass.
She leans into the son, keeps him on track,
And they head back to the interstate.

They’ve always loved the interstate.

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