Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

life’s a highway

Posted on | April 24, 2010 | Comments Off

There’s a world outside every darkened Door
Where blues won’t haunt you anymore
Where the brave are free and lovers soar
Come ride with me to the distant shore

Through all these cities and all these towns
It’s in my blood and it’s all around
I love you now like I loved you then
This is the road and these are the hands
From Mozambique to those Memphis nights
The Khyber Pass to Vancouver’s lights

Knock me down get back up again
You’re in my blood
I’m not a lonely man

There’s no load I can’t hold
Road so rough this I know
I’ll be there when the light comes in
Just tell ‘em we’re survivors

: Life Is A Highway (Rascal Flatts) (or Tom Cochrane)

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    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.
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