Stolen Ride

In a boxcar along with sacks of grain

Two lost souls rode on through the night

Underneath them lay the steel and wheels

Taking them on a stolen ride

Brought together by the winds of fate

Oblivious as to what for

They stared at the moonlit landscape

Flashing through a half opened door

They talked about dreams they once had

And grandiose plans of tomorrow

They talked of loneliness, despair and regret

With a sadness that cut to the marrow

The younger one said. “My daddy left home before I was born, never got to know him.

My mama told me that he was no count and that he wouldn’t worth missing.”

The older man smiled, tipped his torn, worn hat and said. “Your mama was right, this dad of yours, he ain’t worth the bother.

Cause son, this dirty shell of a beat down man standing before you now, is your scoundrel of a father.”