Rolling down the road
Wasting gas and pops
Cows aside their goad-
toil but drag the lops

I used to work all day
From gleaming till incurable ray
Placating no-one, but myself
No wonder she died an awful death

Driving in the van
No forest looks that free
Desperately seeking  pan
Sinking under a tree

Eloquently- she wanders in my thoughts
And the mist of her smile causes me pain
Hoeing the mountainous ground of my soul
Bleeding over my rocks in vain

Rolling down the road
Wasting gas and pops
Cows aside their goad-
toil but drag the lops