The streets that rumble through the day and night
Are peopled by a certain sort of man
Who never knows that ev'ry day's a fight -
For thoughts are muffled by the roving van.
The roads are endless mazes which guide life,
And if you wind around the roads enough
To tread the same corroding ground so rife
With time and need, perhaps you'll break the rough.
Necessity breeds concrete paths that urge
You drive and drive and drive - forever drive -
Nirvana isn't found inside a merge;
There's hope the end holds that for which you strive.
The highways tell us there's a dream on them
So stealing us away from our own gem.