A mile to work and a mile to home;
I roam this bay town more often alone

Than with anyone else who's willing to stay;
I fray and I wither like Bill back in the day

Of those times so funky where music was fresh;
Outta breath I would get singing along in my vette:

I pretend, quite often, that instead I do own;
But no, it's well know of my junker I roam

That I travel point A to point B by such mode;
Yes, I go via foot or death trap on the road

That is ever before me and ready to fight;
Whether night or day light, my knees give their might

And walk and stomp and push best they can;
Whether sit or stand or cross bridges off land

I do hope to pickup a better way,
Less stranger;
But danger aside, I drive on: me and my ford ranger.