The roar of the motor. Road leads,
Movement just ahead of nowhere,
The smell of gasoline, carries around,
In the movement of the wheels,
- The journey begun!
Wind pressure refers back,
But we feel only freedom,
The rats on our tail,
They will not capture us,
- More faster, "crush on the gas"!
Moved twenty-four an hours,
Motor without a break,
Heated and so fumes,
Grind off our tires,
- But, lost rats behind!
The roar of the motor. Road leads,
Movement just ahead of nowhere,
The smell of gasoline, carries around,
In the movement of the wheels,
- The journey begun!
In the soul lives the road,
Moving always calling us away,
We pursue our past,
Let those who are behind,
- Swallow the dust!
Сrush on the gas
© Copyright: Павел Богданов, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №211061401013
Свидетельство о публикации №211061401013
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