I grew up tall and handsome lad
Thanks to my Mother and my Dad,
A peopleís person, never had a lack of friends.
I didnít bend and I stood tall
And didnít mind life at all
And rolled along, and helped my head with both my hands.
But I was young was and I got framed
I had no credit to my name
There was this room that had a sign: "Respect the Time"
Itís where they eat you without salt,
They seal you in an envelope
Address at random, send you where the sun donít shine.
I was a drifter but came back
With prison time behind my back
I wished that someone bought those years or took them free
I thought Iíll never get a job
But there was this recruiter snob
Who made a good long distance trucker out of me.
The road... On the side - the truck
We ran off road and got stuck
The cabinís dark, my partner hasnít said two words.
I wish heíd yell than sit like that
500 miles right or left
And all I hear is his teeth banging "Dance with Swords"
We both knew all about the road
And how they needed our load
And that our job was sit and drive through day and night
Who could have said - New Yearís day,
500 miles either way
The blizzardís strong, and we can honk with all our might.
"Shut down the truck", he says at last,
"You see yourself that we wonít last,
You see yourself that thereís no use to even pray
500 miles on either end
By dawn for sure weíll be dead
And snowed in so well we will not need a grave."
I go: "Shut up, you make me retch"
And then he jumps and grabs a wrench
And stares at me, his face no more than deadly mask
What does he care? - 500 miles,
And only that one who survives
Will tell the story to the cops in case they ask.
He was my brother, only more
I used to hand-feed him before
And there he is, his look is giving me the chills
What does he care - 500 miles,
And who will later write in files
That he forgot who Iím to him and he - to me.
And then he left and went away
I let him go and hit he hay
I dreamed about our funny little scene
500 miles right to left
Iím looking for the "out" gate
But all Iím finding is an "in", and Iím locked in.
The end was simple - tractors came
There was a doctor and a chain
And they made sure that the truck got to its goal.
And he came back, and he looked whipped
But there will be another trip
I donít hold grudges, heís my partner after all.