My last hitch ride had turned off,
I sat on that empty road waitin' a
long while, on another to come along.

The wind chill of near night made
itself known, and still no headlights
on that road had shown.

Some trees out yonder on a rise
looked doable. So, I slung my
rucksack of worldly goods onto
my shoulder and trudged off all alone.

Being free ain't all it's cracked up to be.
But the in-betweens have their moments.
Like a warm campfire and a rabbit roasting
on the spit. And tomorrow yet another
horizon to reach.