Tank of Gas

Monday morning, coffee’s cold, Same old suit, same worn-out road. Nine to five,

dreams on hold, Punchin’ clocks, while my soul gets sold. Fluorescent lights and

concrete walls, Boss man’s voice echoes through the halls. Chasin’ paychecks,

losin’ track, Of the life I swore I’d take back. Now I’m rollin’

free, where the wild wind blows, Down backroad dreams and sunset shows.

Left the grind in my rearview glass, Found my peace in a tank

of gas. Home’s got wheels and open sky, No more askin’ who or why.

Took that leap, now I believe — Life begins when you choose to