A “65 Mustang.

He wants a “65 mustang,

He wants to ride it all way down south.
Cross all borders and breathe the air,

Clearing the head of the dusty city foul.
Forget what wrongs were done,
With which rights to begin.

Driving on the costal line,
Watching the setting sun to fell for love of the life.

Its the summer breeze hitting the face; on highway so loud,
The winter’s cool is howling all around.
The fall colours landing on the bonnet, making it look like a canvas unfinished,
With the rains pouring down the shields singing a jolly old sonnet.

Ride down the corners, Waiting for the fragrance of fresh Pizza filling the cabin; too young to forget.

Living the dream isn’t it,
Riding, resting, taking the pictures and texting.
A loaded card and tank full of gas,
With no destination to go just a vegabond out of systems so sick to last.

He doesn’t want it to stop and yet he opened his eyes,
Awoke from dream before it becomes a lie.

He wants a “65 mustang,

To ride around downtown all night.
But right now his only bike is stolen, life turning more harsher than a frozen night.

Oh Ru the soul©®™

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