Destination Unknown
She laughed. Then she cried, and then she told another one of those confounded bold-faced lies. I left this time. I didn’t say good-bye. I just turned around and hit the road with my thumb extended. Destination unknown.
This bird has flown his coop. This bird, it’s gonna spread it’s wings. This chile gonna rock the cradle. This wolf gonna howl at the moon. This ol’ timer gonna get some of that ol’ time religion. This here feller’s gonna get born again, remove his sins and then sin again and then… That’s the way it’s always been from the beginning unto the end. There’s dusty shacks ‘n’ railroad tracks. I’m bound to find out if the truth is the truth or just a matter of fact. As a matter of fact, it’s time to load up my pack and race on back to the top o’ the tracks. It don’t matter where I’m goin’ or if I’ve been there a thousand times before. Not even if I find opened or closed doors. That’s just part of what all this is for. Destination unknown.
The winter wind’ll blow a stiff breeze right at your face. Turn your back to it and it says, "time to push on." The cold chill will shake you right to the quick. Before you know it the summer breeze comes along blowin’ its warm wind for the rich or poor. Dancin’ ‘n’ glad for the end of ol’ mister winters calamity. Well, it’s about to blow ag’in and it don’t matter here no more. Not that it ever did I suppose. Cause I’m back on the road. Destination unknown.
I’ve had a wad of doe and I had no mo’. Now I’m in some god awful desolate place. Looky at thet ol’ lady pointin’ her finger right at my face. Actin’ like I’m the one who lost the race. Settin’ the pace and expectin’ me to run their confounded race. Who sets the pace anyway? Is it fate? Or a God who creates? One man’s ceiling, another man’s floor. Pleasure and pain, wax and wane. What’s in a name. No thank you Ma’am. I’m doin’ fine right here as I am. Thank you just the same. It’s time once again to jump back onto the tracks. Right now as a matter of fact. I tip my hat and off I go. Destination Unknown.
I’ve been apprehended by the man who didn’t hesitate, nor contemplate about my state or my ill driven fate. I’ve been locked up before, yessir, not even behind jail doors. Just got up off the floor ‘n’ said to myself, of course, "I ain’t a comin’ ‘round here no more. That’s for sure." Don’t know where I’m headin’ though. Destination unknown.
Have a drink from my broken cup. Its O.K. have a drink just for luck. Caught me a ride on the back of some feller’s ol’ pick-up truck. Sat back and watched it kick up the dust. Road on the back of that ol’ truck till dusk. Thank you kindly and goodday and good-luck. Destination unknown.
Sometimes lovin’ life. Sometimes hatin’ life. Saw some guy beatin’ up his wife. Lap of luxury knows no strife. Shoulda stepped in though. Thanks that I’m alone. Life’s kinda funny when you go at it full-blown. No where to lay my head down. No where to call my home. Still should’ve slugged him though. Oh, well. Destination unknown.
Seasons change and change again. Then it rains and soaks you deep into your skin. Then it blows and the sun’ll glow till you can’t take know more. So you find a place to lay your head for a while. Stay in the shade till the end of the day. And sit around and watch the kids as they play. Mediocrity is like the flowin’ seas or listenin’ to the howlin’ breeze. Like an engine that seized, or lifeless disease, or the silence surrounds except someone who breathes. And where ya headin’ Joe? Where am I headin? Where I’m a goin’ I don’t rightly know. Just like that ol’ river that flows, or the suited salesman goin’ from door to door. Sellin’ elixirs and miracle potions. Them men’s they don’t have the notion. One thing they’s all got is plenty of gumption. So, back on the road across another set of tracks or junction. Destination unknown.
So when I grow old, I’ll be raspy and bold talkin’ long about the days that were good as gold. And will it end? Will anyone ever really win? So I pull the pockets outta my slacks and hit the ol’ tracks this time lyin’ flat on my back with that dirty ol’ knapsack. I’ll let out a sneer, then a loud boisterous cheer, or standin’ ovation ‘bout some new fangled sensation. I can do as I please without a care in the world. I can stand up or sit down and not have to be told. No matter where I go and no matter where I been, this is the life for me. Destination Unknown.
Who’ll come along next ‘n’ take my place. Take up the torch and be called a disgrace. Roamin’ from town to town ‘n’ kicked when you’re down. Seein’ all the main drags at your own pace if you lag. Just pack up your bags and head outta here on the crossroads, byroads, highways or byways. Train tracks, flap jacks, hobo’s or bums. Wandering or pondering. City slickers preyin’ or rural slums. No one cares if you’re gone for the day or for all of eternity. No matter how long. Destination unknown.
Bus Stops, bust stops, jails, bails and rails. Fast cars, seedy bars, bottles ‘n’ throttles. Rain or snow, always on the go. No place special, any place will do just fine. Across the Nevada plains or the great American lines. Minnesota, Washington state, or the Virginia mines’ll do jus’ fine. There’s not now, nor has there ever been, a place that I’d call home. To me they’re all the same. No place special atall. Well, top o’ the day to you sir. I’m on my way again. I guess it’s just my calling. Destination unknown.
Written by Stack Jones
© Copyright 2010
