The Miles On My Shoes

They locked me up: 20 years' time
To sit in a room with the dank and the grime
And scribble a note on the prison walls
Don’t be the one that they make fall
Water pours through the drain of your soul
No salvation
Shoes black as coal
Wandering the seas of unfair sand
Hoping for a helping hand
Sometimes it’s hard to be a rebel
Some days I might get the blues
But then I stop! … and count out
The miles on my shoes
Crusin' down 80 going 95
No one’s around floor the pedal and drive
Battle the day’s dark twisted sun
Fight for the night without a gun
The license plate reads out the words
Digital to some, but to others unheard
Wandering the seas of unfair sand
Hoping for a helping hand
Sometimes it’s hard to be a rebel
Some days I might get the blues
But then I stop and count out
The miles on my shoes
Oh-oh-whoa-oh
Oh-oh-whoa-oh
Oh-oh-whoa-oh-oooh!
A blind man’s hearing guiding me
I’ll fight the danger I cannot see
But I’m still stranded in this world
Just waiting for my route to unfurl
Wandering the seas of unfair sand
Hoping for a helping hand
Sometimes it’s hard to be a rebel
Some days I might get the blues
But then I stop! … and count out
The miles on my shoes