Music On the Road
The headlights bathe the road ahead;
The night echoes the diesel engine’s drone.
I listen to the radio and wish
That I were with my wife and kids, at home.
But hauling freight’s what pays the bills,
And it’s become the only way I know.
I shake my head and breathe a sigh,
While eighteen wheels make music on the road.
A slow, cold rain is falling down;
I pray it stops before it starts to freeze.
These mountain roads are bad at best,
And they are near impossible on nights like these--
But at the end of this long run,
They’re awaiting the delivery of my load.
The windshield wipers beat in time
While eighteen wheels make music on the road.
I watch the mile posts flashing by,
As midnight ushers in another day.
I scratch my head, and try to guess
How many times I’ve traveled down this same highway.
I think of children tucked in bed,
And the warm, sweet wife who waits for me, I know.
I feel a lonely ache inside,
While eighteen wheels make music on the road.
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