This trucker's atlas roads the ways, the freeways and highways don't know
The buzz from the bird on my dash road locomotive phone

I don't feel and I feel great, I sold my atlas by the freight stairs
I do lines and I crossed roads, I crossed the lines of all the great state roads
I'm going up Going over to Montana
You got yourself a trucker's atlas, You knew you were all hot, well
Maybe you'll go and blow a gasket. Start at the northwest corner
Go down through California Beeline, you might drive three days
And three nights to the tip of Florida

Do you speak the lingo? Oh, oh no
Do you speak the lingo?No, no
How far does your road? Oh no, you don't know

The human experince can be summed up in it's unquenshed thirst for travel. From walks down neighboorhood alleys to epic expidtions to space; our history is filled to the brim with people who felt a staggering urge to go afoot. to leave. to any place, and for most part to no place.

our flashiest most grand (and ironlcily most solace) journays reside solely in our imagination. Why do we imagine? why do we escape? We do it becuase everything in our existance is riddled with anameia and let downs. In imagination there lays our forte and durability. We can imagine the cosoms and we can un imagine them. The non-existant journay is the one thing we trully control.

We are gods in that domain.

They all go; the janitors, the presidents, the cities, the lovers, your most cherished golden retriver (oh; didnt you just love spike? what would childhood been like without spike?). They all wether away with the nature cycle of tare, diesease a nd decay. IT's all a fucking sham, only thing of value is the imagining aspect of it.

we travel to escape, We imagine to escape, the human expeirince is fronted and advanced by the greates escape artists known in the universe

afterr all, we can all only do so much, at the end of all things.