The truckers they are nice,
Most’a them give you pass and let you by,
so let the car dance,
and stay away so you don’t hit anyone,
drifty you are, so are truckers most of them,
they live on the road,
the highway space really, is to them.
Real state changing hands to real estate helps you when,
the truckers lights and colored reflectors start fad’n,
your body is strong but your head isn’t,
you look for an enterprise and soon you find one,
a fat woman, a brave one, of a great country in all directions,
likes to help but is sure of some denomination,
known socialist and drowned in capitalism.
You the road tripper,
you can sink to darkness and rise to light,
a hundred kilometers just remain by,
slow your speed,
look around,
tall trees until were hidden behind,
closed shops shutters,
families loaded in cars and scooters,
buses are overloaded too,
shadow and sun,
is to all aw them,
they are moving all ways,
and the road tripper,
as time has become still,
has been with him,
and so has the space.
Amen!
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