Thru all the corners past clothes lines pointing east and west   a pocket full of matchbooks badges from towns passed through, never stayed long   traveled in open boxcars with men wearing hats cowboy boots faded jeans standing like kings overlooking the land   passed over 10,000 streets not one name remembered  


Dreams grow on billboards, some are painted on the sides of barns.   Out of Chicago on 66, winds at my back, passing brick churches, racing freight trains to St. Louis, where a river heads south as I push past growing fields where families work for peanuts while harvesting corn as I move onto Oklahoma, … More ROUTE 66