En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Our Unique Imagination

It was just simply made from curtain rings,
rubber bands, sticky tape and silver springs.
Paper clips, coat hangers and old door knobs,
shelving brackets, plywood and bits and bobs.

Bicycle wheels, chipboard and plastic pipes,
material in rainbow coloured stripes.
A wooden high chair, nuts, bolts, nails and screws,
anything at all that easily glues.

Old exhaust, cords, cogs, and a rusted pan,
an empty squashed, washed out Heinz baked beans can.
One waste paper basket and rickety stool,
heavy roll of wire on cardboard spool.

Ball of strong string and pieces of leather,
most of great use when welded together.
Joined in one huge magical creation,
formed from our unique imagination.

What to call this, alas, we do not know,
but it has a slight touch of art nouveau.
A sculpture that in time, might famous be,
in London’s exclusive Tate Gallery.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper Pieces

Words by michelle branch
Music by michelle branch & will golden
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Called your name today but no one answers any more,
You turned and ran away like someone came and locked the door,
Paper pieces lyin on the floor,
I fall to pieces now the coffees black and my heart is soar.
*pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor.
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Since you left that day Ive realized my minds made up on you,
My heart is capsized and I dont know what Im gonna do.
*pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor.
Pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor,
Paper pieces on the floor :
And I call out to you,
Oh, but you turn,
Yes you turn away-
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Called you name today but no one answers any more.
*pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor.
Pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor,
Pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor,
Paper pieces on the floor
(call me,call me, call me, call me)
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada

song performed by by Michelle Branch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jetsam

Foaming wave... aftershave
Plastic comb, brittle bone
Bottle top, building block
Wooden spar, plastic car
Thermos top, can of pop
Salt-stained shoe, tin of glue
Tennis racket, empty packet
Car tyre, coil of wire
Pram wheel, rubber seal
Tar-blacked stone, fir cone
Rusty lid, twisted grid
Chipboard, orange cord
Empty and faded
Bottle of bleach
Almost forgotten
On winter beach

poem by Taimour Arshad Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doctor Junk

Dr. junk the dentist man
Fills your teeth with what he can
Airplane wings and corset stays
And when hes done hell let you pay
In paper clips or inner tubes
Or anything thats slightly used
Hes not really crazy
Only nuts ... and bolts
And rusty rings make him do
The strangest things
Dr. junk the dentist has
An office full of colored glass
A garden with a paddle wheel
And funny plants for eye appeal
And though he watches them with care
Ive never seen them growing there
Hes not really crazy
Only nuts ... and bolts
And rusty rings make him do
Eccentric things
Dr. junk the dentist built
A junky castle up on stilts
Junk within and junk throughout
And tv in the chimney spout
And fourteen levels to each floor
And now hes adding fourteen more
Hes not really crazy
Only nuts ... and bolts
And rusty rings make him do
The strangest things

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weird Science

(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces and
Magic from the hand
Were makin
(weird science)
Things Ive never seen before
Behind bolted doors
Talent and imagination
(weird science)
Not what teacher said to do
Makin dreams come true
Living tissue, warm flesh
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
Chorus
(bits of) my creation--is it real?
Its my creation--i do not know
No hesitation--no heart of gold
Just flesh and blood--i do not know
From my heart and from my hand
Why dont people understand
My intentions . . . . oooh, weird . . . .
Weird science!!
(weird science)
Magic and technology
Voodoo dolls and chants
Electricity
Were makin
(weird science)
Fantasy and microchips
Shooting from the hip
Something different
Were makin
(weird science)
Pictures from a magazine
Diagrams and charts
Mending broken hearts (and makin)
(weird science)
Something like a recipe
Bits and pieces . . . .
Bits and pieces . . . .

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tough As Nails

Mr. macho loves his women with such dedication
Second only to his car that drives as fast as light
On a highway bad jet fighters come from all directions
Shooting verbal missiles, find their target right on sight, right on sight
In the office things get rough as action is diminished
Staring at a paper he is lost inside his head
Dreaming of a battlefield with guns and ammunition
All around, the bodies of the wounded and the dead, and the dead
(chorus)
cause hes tough as nails
Hes tough as nails
Hes tough as nails
Hes tough as nails
Hes such a live wire
Hes such a live wire
Hes such a live wire
Hes such a live wire
Now its time for football and a bout with heavy drinking
Holding so much liquor makes him feel like a man
As he drifts out on the sea on a ship thats slowly sinking
Quietly salutes himself and the courage he once had, he once had
(repeat chorus)
Walking round and round in circles
Waking up in a cold sweat
Falling down a stairway and the tv dinners not done yet
Smash a window, crash a car
And buy a pair of leather shoes
Take a sweetheart to a movie
Cash a check and pay some dues
Hes such a live wire
Hes such a live wire
Hes such a live wire
Hes such a live wire
(repeat chorus)
Walking round and round in circles...

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And then the paper is dirty

You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,

You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.

You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.

I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful

Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.

Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Great Escape

with cardboard paper wire and string
he fashioned a pair of Angels wings
and strapped them on with cellotape

then poised to make his great escape
but wobbled at the very brink
and crashed to the floor
by the kitchen-sink

the ethereal spirit
was clearly gin
and they found his soul
in the pedal-bin

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Fortress

Is made of parcment paper
Manilla envelopes shade
The sun
Once a fortress made of
Steel
Now melted
By a welders torch
Tormented by lusts
Familiar call
The door is solid
Origami
Pasted shut with
Super Glue
Seven wooden soldiers
Mount my toothpick
Gate
To protect me
From you
In the daylight
Or in the shadows
At the midnight
Hour
My paper bell chimes
Warnings from
Plastic warrior power
Guarding my insecurities
From the dark colours
Sneaking through
The crevices
Of Brown and Blue
That are ouside
Sixteen miles away
From the
Chapel where bibles
Go to hide

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Just Want to Touch My Plastic

You just want to touch my plastic.
And qualify yourself,
As someone entwined...
In a relationship with me,
Of some kind.

One that defines you,
Approved to exhaust me of funds.
With an accepted aggrevation made,
To deplete me quick.
Applying a 'get-it-and-run' trick trip!
I'm not the one.
I am not having it.

That has happened before.
And I didn't get addicted.

Oh, yes...
That's all you want to do!
You,
Just want to touch my plastic.
To wine and dine,
Unlimited.

But let me say this...
You're not about to touch nothing of mine.
Until you've made a deposit.
One that suits me quite fine.

A massaging you can start.
And I'll decide,
If you become added to my membership list!

'Member what? ?
That's a bunch of ssshhh...'

Take your time and don't be quick.
Or fidget impatiently with crossed legs fixed.
As if to slow this process,
To inflict a punishment.
While I witness you paint your finger nails.
After you blow dry your acrylic toes.

Followed by a pouting of your ruby red lips.

You just want to put your hands on my plastic.
And other things God only knows!
With a proposal made that leaves me broke,
And left cold.
I'm not fooled by a smoozing,
You wish easily sold.

'Why can't your believe and accept I love you? '

I believe you want to do me with a paid for screwing.
That's what I believe.
And that's what you are doing!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bobs

(Field Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar)

There's a little red-faced man,
Which is Bobs,
Rides the talliest 'orse 'e can --
Our Bobs.
If it bucks or kicks or rears,
'E can sit for twenty years
With a smile round both 'is ears --
Can't yer, Bobs?

Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur -- little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's our pukka Kandaharder --
Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel;
'E's the man that done us well,
An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell --
Won't we, Bobs?

If a limber's slipped a trace,
'Ook on Bobs.
If a marker's lost 'is place,
Dress by Bobs.
For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat,
An'a a bugle in 'is throat,
An'you will not play the goat
Under Bobs.

'E's a little down on drink
Chaplain Bobs;
But it keeps us outer Clink --
Don't it, Bobs?
So we will not complain
Tho' 'e's water on the brain,
If 'e leads us straight again --
Blue-light Bobs.

If you stood 'im on 'is head,
Father Bobs,
You could spill a quart ot lead
Outer Bobs.
'E's been at it thirty years,
An-amassin' soveneers
In the way o' slugs an' spears --
Ain't yer Bobs?

What 'e does not knowv o'war,
Gen'ral Bobs,
You cun arst the shop next door --
Can't they, Bobs?
Oh, 'e's little but he's wise;
'E's terror for' is size:,
An' -- 'e -- does -- not -- advertize --
Do yer, Bobs?

Now they 've made a blooimin 'Lord
Ou ter Bobs,
Which was but 'is fair reward --
Wheren't it, Bobs?:
So ell wear a coronet
W'here 'is 'elmet used to set;
But we know you won't forget --
Will yer, Bobs?

Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur -- little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs,
Pocket-Wellin'ton 'an arder --
Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
This ain't no bloomin' ode,
But you've 'elped the soldier's load,
An' for benefits bestowed,
Bless yer, Bobs!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is Otherside Also

A child got possession of a paper,
Was Very important for his father.
The child was totally unknown,
While playing with paper he torn.

Father became very disappointed,
Assemble it! to child he pointed.
The child gathered all the pieces
Put together and joined the pieces.

So simple! how did you do son?
It had very essential information,
I would have to bear heavy cost
If this vital information was lost.

It was very simple, the child told;
Matched numbers on it and hold.
Other side some numbers printed
To match the pieces, they hinted.

Thing looking difficult may be easy,
A challenge may be tackled simply.
While finding the solution look into
The other side of the problem too.

(c) S.D. Tiwari
email [email protected]

poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Southern Narrative

The tired old farm buildings
Were slumping into the ground
Like exhausted children,
Fighting to stay upright,
But too old, too tired
To try much longer.

Possibly, the only thing
Holding them vertically
Was the amount of vines
Sprouting out the tops
Of the tilting roofs.

Doors gaped wide,
Hinges hanging away,
Most of their screws missing,
Holding bits and pieces
Of the stout planks
Which used to make doors.

A heavy metal winch
Swung from the upper
Door of the barn,
Creaking and whining
With age.

Where once it had been
The lifter of heavy loads,
It now hangs limply
On a frayed rope,
Empty and useless.

The stalls stand bare as well,
Rotting, sour hay on floors
Which used to be cleaned daily.
Rusted milk cans tilt
Against walls that can barely
Hold them upright.

A saddle still hangs
By the vacant doorway.
Where it had once shone proudly
With bright polish and clean brass,
And smelled of horse,
It now drops bits of dried-out leather,
Like a moulting bird,
Onto the unused floor.

Cans of paint, bits of brass,
Rusty wire, old hoes and rakes
Lay in a jumble on shelves
Falling off the walls.

The homeplace, the house,
Shows the same state of neglect,
Doors ajar, windows sagging,
Tiles tilting and sliding off the roof.

The porch dips and sags,
Dragging the ground
Like the old preacher's wife,
Wearing her finest clothes,
With her slip hanging down,
Tattered and dirty,
And very worn at the edges.

The house beside the road,
Where people lived
And children played,
Is empty now,
And falling down.

The echos of happy feet
Are heard,
Tapping to the sound
Of Poppy's fiddle,
But the house beside the road
Is empty, and forlorn.

When a gentle voice
Is heard in the house,
It is only a singing breeze,
Sifting itself through
The cracks in the roof
Of the house I used to call
Home.

Linda Scarlett Treat
January 6,2010

poem by Scarlett Treat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pen Gone Dry

Barren fields…empty places
Mind devoid of idea and rhyme
Sterile imagination…featureless faces
Webs in memories, frozen in time

Fingers flaccid, mind unwilling
Heavy lies this heart of mine
Creative forces not fulfilling
Empty flask of poetic wine

Dried up source of poetic spring
Used up store of poetic phrases
Emptied purse with untied string
Like worn out shoes and old frayed laces

Time away… might grow the field
Time away… might fill the empty places
Perhaps time will let the emptiness yield
To imagination…and full featured faces

Now...inkwell empty
Tear in eye
Pristine paper
Pen... gone dry...

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rubber Ball

I'm a rubber ball
(Victims of success
We all are...)
Blackbird sittin' at the kitchen door
Don't give him bread he'll come back for more
Point to the bush where the berry grow
Rub your belly and touch your toes
We are strong
We're invincible
We are driven snow in the face of all
We are strong
We're invincible
We're a rubber ball
Blackbird shackled in a golden cage
Mother nature she shake with rage
Well he was born with his
And I was born with mine
And there is still a dividing line
Says we are strong
We're invincible
And we are driven snow
In the face of all
We are strong
We're invincible
And we're a rubber ball
Who says we are strong
And we're invincible
And we are driven snow...?

song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rubber Ball (Space Kitchen)

Im a rubber ball
(victims of success
We all are...)
Blackbird sittin at the kitchen door
Dont give him bread hell come back for more
Point to the bush where the berry grow
Rub your belly and touch your toes
We are strong
Were invincible
We are driven snow in the face of all
We are strong
Were invincible
Were a rubber ball
Blackbird shackled in a golden cage
Mother nature she shake with rage
Well he was born with his
And I was born with mine
And there is still a dividing line
Says we are strong
Were invincible
And we are driven snow
In the face of all
We are strong
Were invincible
And were a rubber ball
Who says we are strong
And were invincible
And we are driven snow...?

song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insect

Insect.

On my blue lined writing pad a tiny insect walks,
it appears lost and hesitates before crossing a line,
lost in this vast wilderness of the unwritten.
I try to blow it off the paper, but somehow glues
itself to the paper and will not budge.
I cannot touch it tiny as it is I will surely squash it.
Nothing I can do for now, leave it to its own devise,
go watch TV. When I returned it has gone, a sheet
of paper with nothing written on is a lonely place
and has no story to tell.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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HARDWARE STORE

Nothin' ever (ever) happens in this town
Feelin' low down (down), not a lot to do around here
I thought that I would go right out of my mind
Until a friend told me the news
He said, "Hey! You know that vacant lot
Right beside the gas station? Well somebody bought it
And on that spot they're gonna build a shop
Where we can go buy bolts and screws"
Since then I've been walking on air (air)
I can barely brush my teeth or comb my hair
'Cause I'm so excited and I really don't care
I've been waiting since last June
For this day to finally arrive
I'm so happy (happy) now just to be alive
'Cause any minute now I'm gonna be inside
Well, I hope they open soon
I can't wait, (no I) I can't wait (oh when)
When are they gonna open up that door?
I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the
Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the
Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes I'm goin' to the
Hardware store
In my sleeping bag I camped out overnight
Right in front of the store, then as soon as it was light out
I pressed my nose right up against the glass
You know, I had to be first in line
Gonna get me a flashlight and a broom
Want a pair of pliers for every single room of my house
See those hacksaws? Very, very soon
One of them will be all mine
Guys with nametags walking down the aisles
Rows of garden hoses that go on for miles and miles
Brand new socket wrenches in a plethora of styles
All arranged alphabetically
And they're doing a promotional stunt
There's a great big purple sign out front
That says every 27th customer
Will get a ball peen hammer free
I can't wait, (no I) I can't wait (oh when)
When are they gonna open up that door?
I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the
Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the
Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes I'm goin' to the
Hardware store
I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the
Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the
Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes I'm goin' to the
Hardware store
Would you look at all that stuff.
They've got allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters
Trash compactors, juice extractors, shower rods and water meters
Walkie-talkies, copper wires, safety goggles, radial tires
BB pellets, rubber mallets, fans and dehumidifiers
Picture hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters
Paint removers, window louvres, masking tape and plastic gutters
Kitchen faucets, folding tables, weather stripping, jumper cables
Hooks and tackle, grout and spackle, power foggers, spoons and ladles
Pesticides for fumigation, high-performance lubrication
Metal roofing, waterproofing, multi-purpose insulation
Air compressors, brass connectors, wrecking chisels, smoke detectors
Tire gauges, hamster cages, thermostats and bug deflectors
Trailer hitch demagnetizers, automatic circumcisers
Tennis rackets, angle brackets, Duracells and Energizers
Soffit panels, circuit breakers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers
Calculators, generators, matching salt and pepper shakers
I can't wait, (no I) I can't wait (oh when)
When are they gonna open up that door?
I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the
Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the
Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes I'm goin' to the
Hardware store
I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the
Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the
Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes I'm goin' to the
Hardware store
I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the
Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the
Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes I'm goin' to the
Hardware store

song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From The Damage

This time Im done with always screwing up
Im sick of one direction down
Im a broken picture frame
My whole worlds twisted inside out
Streaming voices like a hurricane
Its telling me to wake up
Get out of bed
Put your feet on the floor
Theres fresh air out the door
And Ive been acting so pathetic
Knocking around like a ball on a string
Its taking time for me to get it
Im ready and willing to do anything to make it up to you
My arms are hurting so bad from being so empty
My heart weighs like a ton cause it feels so heavy
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
Last time Im playing with a broken string
It dont matter no ones listening
Cause losing you has made me see
Ive gotta change
Gotta blame it
All on me
And Ive been acting so pathetic
Knocking around like a ball on a string
Its taking time for me to get it
Im ready and willing to do anything to make it up to you (oh)
My arms are hurting so bad from being so empty (so empty)
My heart weighs like a ton cause it feels so heavy (heavy yeah)
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
That you just cant walk away
From the damage (damage)
My eyes may as well be blind if I just cant see you(if I cant see you)
My hands may as well be tied cause they just cant touch you (touch you)
Before the smoke can really clear away
From fires I started yesterday
I know Ive gotta find a way
Somehow Ive gotta find a way to wake up
From the damage
My arms are hurting so bad from being so empty
My heart weighs like a ton cause it feels so heavy
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
My eyes may as well be blind if I just cant see you
My hands may as well be tied cause they just cant touch you
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage

song performed by by O-town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repaired

Hauled I was from out the tip
Fritz made with his demonstration,
All broke up, a fractured hip
In me Darby Kell a rip
Settn' up a cool sensation
Like excessive ventilation

One 'and cluttered up a treat-
On me oath you wouldn't know it
From a 'andsome plate of meat.
They had sorter pied me feet,
And a bullet of the foe hit
Where no decent bloke could show it.

'Arf a year they've botched me now;
Ev'ry scientific schemer
In the cor' has faked me prow,
Soled 'n' heeled a bloke somehow-
Gawd, the last one was a screamer.
Wirin' up me flamin' femur!

Comes a guy and pipes you square,
Gogglin' at you through his glasses,
Swings you in the barber's chair,
Tilts you this end up with care,
Lets you have a whiff of gasses
Chattin' off-hand with the lasses.

Then he slices clean 'n' swift,
Like a cobbler cuts his leather,
Gives the splintered knob a lift-
S'elp me tater, it's a gift
How they glues you all together,
Sayin' it's bin nicer weather!

Surgeon wipes his 'ands, a verse
Chort1e softly as he pitches
Probes and sponges to the nurse,
Thinks the lunch might have bin worse;
Close your little gap he hitches,
Whistlin' as he jabs the stitches.

I'm caught in with fiddle-strings,
Stuck about with bits 'n' patches,
Fixed with ligatures 'n' springs,
Lath 'n' plastered, swung in slings
Skewered with little wooden matches,
Hung with hinges, knobs 'n' latches.

Till I lay behind me screen,
Serious 'n' sober one day,
Satisfied 'n' all serene,
'Arf a man 'n' 'arf machine
What they winds up ev'ry Monday
'N' it tilts all ways by Sunday.

'Ome again I'll come, a neat,
Semi-autymatic loafer,
Number up, 'n' all complete,
Creakin' round on Collins Street,
With a licence (which I'll owe for)
My own car and my own shofer!

poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Highway Junkie

(chris knight/sam tate/annie tate)
A hundred cups of coffee, five hundred cigarettes
A thousand miles of highway and I aint forgot her yet
But I keep on moving, I keep moving down the line
There aint nothing in my mirror, just a cloud of dust and smoke
But what do you expect when some old truckers heart gets broke
Yeah, truckers hearts gets broke
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
Ten miles out of nashville, I was doing a hundred and one
State boy me over and he said, wheres the fire, son?
He said, wheres the fire son?
I said man, there aint no fire, Im just running from a flame
Go on and write your ticket, but I aint the one to blame
That county judge tried to rob me blind.
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
So I rolled on down to memphis
I had nothing left to lose
I wanted to hear some rock and roll, but all they played was blues
I didnt wanna hear no blues
So I went to call up elvis and roger miller grabbed the phone
He said drive that 18 wheeler, boy, youre the king of the road
Said I was the king of the road
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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