Rough wheels run circles Around a static background Passing the same horizon Over and over again Like some old cartoon Driving in place As he races to his next stop To live unload his next drop Early bird waiting hours plus Hoping they can fit him in So he can hit the road again Before his electronic log Locks him down for the day He brings his paperwork And waits He pulls his tandem back Then waits Drops his trailer in the door And waits Rest stop gas station shower On the road Smoke stacks cough up Black clouds Yellow lines Become yellow blurs Another load down Another pick up The road rides him roughly Home beckons him on Fifteen hundred miles To his own bed Coffee break and **** stop To clear his head And the sunset runs seventy miles An hour While he pushes seventy-five Two million miles down Two million more to end his life