Two roads cross heading off in all four directions
The gas stations do not have fuel
they just sell food and ornaments
We have to follow one of these directions before sundown
Dwarves attend by giving excuses
some desperate for fuel, drivers shout abuse
we just cool off and accept it as we make for the next town
The scenery takes your focus from the roads ups and downs
The helpless and the hopeless exist on leftovers from the wealthy
their plans intertwine and pride cooks banquets
I'll eat the wrong food at the wrong time and wrong place
Forcing the clock hands like a kidnapper until the batters made by me
Heavy roads the land wears like long robes
Like a list of sins I beg be forgiven
Or a list of demands I beg be considered
I'd be running on empty lately if it weren't for you my tanker
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