It’s four A.M. — driving slow. Yellow streaks, orange cones, Parallax in the night glow. I’m all alone on the road.

It’s quiet — the A.C. blows. Dead zone, no phone, And not a soul knows, I’m all alone on the road.

It’s raining — the omen shows. Shallow breaths, slack pose, “Please wait, I’m almost home.” I’m all alone on the road.

It’s pouring — it echoes. Vision blears, paint narrows, And tears swell as though, I’m all alone on the road.