Machina Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners

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And I, it's why I stay up late at night
White cracks on my ceiling come to life
And I, I'm here in body, not in mind
I'm here in body not in mind

As long as I'm able
I'll pick up this pen to write
I'll tell all my fables
Though they seem a bit contrived
Still I'll bus my own table
Make sure I leave nothing behind
Yeah it's all just another device

We had met in the desert neath an interstate ramp
I had made my own path
Through the Mojave's wrath
You had your things with you some kind of supertramp
For a few nights we camped
Shared stories of the past

You said
"You're young enough to let it all go
The money, women, tainted dreams
Its a blood pump full of kerosene
It's a shaky road filled up with all the finer things;
No dramamine -
It's a head on crash to middle age
In a car that you aren't steering"