Cleaned the barracks room , cannot stay here.

cannot sleep on the bunk or sit anywhere.

Wipe down the scoot down to the last spoke.

Grab a can of spam, crackers and a liter of coke.

Head out to destination no where,

feel the freedom of the road and the wind in my hair.

Free times.

Going down the aisles in a grocery store,

by the time I buy the diapers, formula,

can’t afford much more.

Pick up some spam, crackers and a liter of coke,

Raising a child on corporal pay is a hard row to hoe.

Hard times.

 Thousand miles away from what I call home.

Eating noodles with chopsticks out of a bowl.

Sell my spam ,crackers and liter of coke,

bringing in some black market dough.

Different times.

 Out at the lake,   fire and a leather coat,

time for my spam, crackers and a liter of coke.

Ah yea, brought something extra along,

a little bit of Evan Williams, a guitar and and song.

Sun going down with its colorful rays, a long

road traveled to get to this place.

Good times.