The road, like the past, is twisted.

I'm always moving and bending,
going from here to there.
Traveling a highway of memories,
hoping they'll lead somewhere.

The ground may be bumpy,
and things often seem unkind.
But more often than not, I see,
our roads are intertwined.  

So why not get in the car with me?
Our fate has always been sealed.
"We're not meant to ride together" you say,
I guess I'm supposed to yield.

The road, like our past, is twisted.