Out back in the wrecking yard covered by a ton of rust
A veteran of the highway sits and slowly turns to rust
No headlights now to show the way, her windshield cracked and glazed
Does she sit and ponder what she has seen in better days
Trips across the prairie beneath an endless sky
Her engine singing loud and strong as the miles went rushing by
Thoughts of a winter mountain pass choked with ice and snow
She traveled over highways where Angels feared to go
North up to the ice roads, south to sand and sun
East to west then back again, oh how she loved to run
Does she think of the many people who slept there in her bed
Does she remember all the things they done and all the things they said
Now she’s back there in the corner as the days slip slowly by
LOOK —- what’s that on her windshield, could a big truck really cry ?
Copyright ©2005 Bookworm
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