Mobile Man Cave
The road is my oyster
A paved type of cloister
However bumpy steep or fair
World problems are fixed there
Whether curves or a straight line
None that are solved are mine
Gear down and climb that hill
Thirty years it’s still a thrill
A little left or right I must steer
Getting paid to sit on my rear
Driving between dotted and white line
Thinking of the fun ways to rhyme
Stop at red or go at the green light
Inside the cab, I am recondite
Some think my schedule is hectic
I find it peacefully hermetic
Get out and thump that tire
It’s to write that I aspire
Three trailers behind me draggin’
Some call it a wiggle wagon
Rolling along down the highway
No one to tell me to do it my way
Coming to the end, it’s time to yield
Looking at the world thru a windshield
