OldTroubador's blog post - An Old Hobo

I’m just an old drifter, moving from town to town
Something keeps pushing me, can’t never seem to settle down
After a while the towns look the same
Only the names have been changed.
The banks, the stores, that church over there
Same old courthouse on the same town square

Slide into a truck stop, set the brakes on my rig
It never seems to matter if it’s little or it’s big
The same old gals slinging hash to the same old busted tables
They’d like to leave this old town, but they surely ain’t able
They’re stuck here in this nameless town
But in ten more hours, I’m moving on

I’m just a hobo driving eighteen wheels

Been running so long I can’t remember what from
Pushed by that old diesel song, letting the Bridgestones hum
My life is bound by the dotted lines
The asphalt edge, the yellow pines
Hundred scale houses, a thousand bridges
Curving roads that carry me over the ridges

I left a gal back east, she wanted to make me a home
But I had to leave her behind, I was born to roam
I can’t see me settling down
I’m not one to live in the same old town
So I packed my rags, filled up the tanks
Hit the highline past the stores, past the banks

I’m just an old hobo driving eighteen wheels

I’ll just keep running, I have no idea where
I just hope I’m smart enough to know when I’m finally there
Get land, a place to pitch a tent
Build a house, a home, be content
But I’ll probably never find a place to settle
Have a bed of my own, a stove with a kettle

I’ve been running so long I forgot how to sit still
And if given a chance, I really don’t think that I will
Driving the big roads, small roads bending
Mile after mile, days never ending
The only home I can hope to have
Is when they drop me in a grave

And let the marker say
Here lies a tired old hobo, who drove the tires off eighteen wheels