I'm on the road
and I don't have a home.
Gone when I left
and I'm gone where I lie,
raking the warmth from a
blue sky.

Take it all with you,
when you fall into the dark.
Each of the hour-lilies wasting away
on the heat of the telephone
the rent on our mistaken home.

But I'm on the road
and I don't have to go home.
Damn if he expects me to win in the end,
dealing him out as an old friend.

I'll be stuck here
behind the wheel,
twisted and strangled
in the belts.
Climbing below
when my head is too wide
for the child-size.

Maybe I'll make it only halfway.
Maybe I'll stop and get side-tracked.
Maybe you don't really want me back.