I am driving around in the city, lost for so long.
There are so many lanes to chose from, I am confused.
Each lane has a sign over it, telling me where it leads,
If only I knew where I want to be.

The only signs I really look at are those of the motels.
I have slept in so many of them; they all look the same to
me now.
I have slept in single sized beds, and double ones too.
I have been on mattresses so soft, changing their shape to
fit my body,
And I have been on some so hard that the lumps could torture
the strongest back.
I have slept in beds so clean and pure,
And in such that showed traces of many past visitors.

I have learned to adjust any bed to fit me for a short
while.
I can make the hardest of beds soft for a few days or
weeks,
But its true nature is bound to emerge once more.
I no longer even bother to try.

I long for a bed that will be hard and strong, yet will fit
my own curves.
I know any bed needs tweaking,
But the one I want will be almost perfect for me

I drive around the city, looking for a place to call home.
Then I will put my sign on every road, telling the world I
am there.
Only then will I know my peace, resting in her lap.