I've driven these same dirt roads
back and forth, over and over again.
The dust on my boots, the mud on my flaps
is the dirt left by my past that I considered a win.
Riding carefree with the windows down, sun in my face
unaware of the world around me and what's taking place.
Out here I'm free, free to be whoever I wanna be
not having to conform to the whims of society.
However, dirt roads still have have rules to follow
and when enforced my pride I must now swallow.
Like the truck in which I traveled these dirt roads so freely
I've been towed, impounded, now faced with a harsh reality.
I've asked myself, what does a captain and pilot both share?
A destination and a navigator to safety get them there.
Someone to plot the best path for the destined route
while planning for turbulence or an occasional water spout.
I commanded my vessels without any desired port
To me, this life was a race, a game, simply for sport
Dirt roads allowed me to take shortcuts and to cheat
however, life does not have a button marked repeat.