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Back Road

Down the deserted back road
Hand me another beer.
We plan to be free, you and me,
and bask in the blazing sun.

Is that a cop?
No, we can keep being free.
See, that lake is full of fish,
that’s another place to camp.

Go this way, not that way,
I know a really great place.
Hand me another beer dude,
and hold nothing back.

Crank that old music up.
I got busted over there.
Dodge those pot holes,
we fly around every curve.

We caught a lot of fish there,
and a few girls over there.
Stop! Is that a cop?
No.  I just spilt my beer.

I remember this hill,
what a thrill to jump,
and that graffiti covered bridge,
we all peed off of.

Hurry, cars are comin,
get in, get in, get in.
I dropped my beer back there,
give me another one, man.

Hey, I got a joint,
but I don’t have a light.
Don’t steal my lighter,
or I’ll make you walk.

Where’s my lighter at?
It’s in your pocket, Dude.
I love this song, turn it up.
I think we’re out of beer.

That old car long since gone,
like favorite friends who have moved on.
Things always seem to change,
but some things never do

The long dusty road,
a thousand miles long.
Where friendships begin,
and freedom stands strong.

Where have you been, my friend?
Not on the road for sure.
I got a new life,
and I hope to see you soon.

(Photograph: Back road under Inspiration Point, Southern Illinois)

Published by Chris Bunton

Publishing Editor for The Yard: Crime Blog.

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