The Hard Road

I'll take the hard road

I believe I'll see you there

In a cyclone of stones

Wooden spikes in your hair

Or maybe you'll be resting

Leaning up against a busted fence

Pluck a burr from your coat

Then we're back up on the hard road

We could sleep in a barn

Bathe in a lake

Steal a pie

Let hunger dictate

The steps we take

Along the hard road

And when winter comes

We'll borrow from

The nearest washing line

And when summer comes

It's almost impossible

Not to have a good time

Out on the hard road