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Michael McGuire
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Any Man's Ballad
In the milk of the morning into the traffic's panicked pace,
Thru the lens of the windshield; a blank stare face, Enough caffeine running thru your veins to blow up a bridge,
An endless stream of red tail lights disappearing over the ridge.
Almost here; almost there,
Halfway home; halfway to nowhere.
Mind is drifting as body stutters than syncs to automation,
Eye to eye with the idiot-brow of civilization,
The objects in your memory like reflections in a side view mirror,
But agonizing the moments doesn't make the future any clearer.
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Almost here; almost there,
Halfway home; halfway to nowhere.
Lie awake and the whole world lies awake with you; sleep and the world sleeps,
Private wealth at the expense of public health; he owes what he reaps,
Now the rain and the road at dusk are fused into this kind of aching blue-beauty,
And the driver studies the weather's blur of destiny and duty.
Almost here; almost there,
Halfway home; halfway to nowhere.
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