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Brock Zeman
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Dust
I missed my bus
At the London Station
I had to take the milk run
At two hours difference
I took a seat beside an old man
He was drinking red wine
He said: I got ya a drink son
If you've got the time
He said: I've been gone awhile.
I've thumbed my way across this country-wide
Cold shoulders and road signs
Were my only friends
Thumbed across that prairie stretch
In a cherry red corvette
I Slept beside the railroad tracks
Back in Thunder Bay
I played hide and seek with the sun
I've stared down the barrel of a gun
I even slept in the jailhouse some
Back in the month of May
Picket fences always looked like bones to me
So I rambled far and free
Time to put this soul to sleep
This old dog has had his day.
High on the horizon I see these words across the sky
Everything turns to dust by and by.
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I've run from the cold and I've played with fire
I sang bass in a hobo choir
To the melody of screaming tires
Lord don't I love that sound
I've talked to god and held the devil's hand
Slept down in the mud and the sand
Regrets just ain't my style man
They're too heavy to lug around
But sometimes I get to thinking about
All them things I've been missing out
Lord, I wished I'd of settled down
And maybe bought some land
It gets me feeling some kinda low
When a north wind howls so
But then I hear a lonesome train whistle blow
And lord here I go again.
The old man hunched low in his seat
He let out a breath slow and deep
His eyes bowed down with sleep
And he just kinda trailed off
I saw the lights of my hometown
The bus broke and slowed right down
The old man was still sleeping sound
When I hit my stop.
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