Eighteen wheels on a black strip road.
Carrying a heavy iron load.
Coffee cold in a plastic cup.
Wait for the yellow sun to wake up.
I am just a seed in the gray.
Washing all the distance away.
Tangled in the wire and the grit.
Waiting for the engine to quit.
Stop at a station with a buzzing light.
Cutting through the middle of the night.
Smell of diesel and old burnt grease.
Searching for a moment of some peace.
I am just a seed in the gray.
Washing all the distance away.
Tangled in the wire and the grit.
Waiting for the engine to quit.
Like a Monarda in the wild weed.
I have everything a driver need.
Patient as a root in the clay.
Watching all the headlights drift away.
I am just a seed in the gray.
Washing all the distance away.
Tangled in the wire and the grit.
Waiting for the engine to quit.
Chrome is peeling off the heavy door.
I cannot take the humming anymore.
Syllables of steel in my head.
Wishing I was sleeping in my bed.
Dig a hole in the asphalt floor.
I don't want to drive any more.
Let the nitrogen feed the vein.
Wash the highway out with the rain.
Lonicera climbs up the fence.
The feeling of the night is too dense.
Static on the radio dial.
Counting every single lonely mile.
I am just a seed in the gray.
Washing all the distance away.
Tangled in the wire and the grit.
Waiting for the engine to quit.
Rooted deep in the oil.
Rooted deep in the soil.
