  Don't worry folks, this is NOT about me. This is a song I'm in the middle of writing. Any suggestions are appreciated.
He’s in the back of the Satellite, rolling his cigarettes with the old papers he found in Daddy’s things the sky is black with clouds and the night but there’s no rain again and I think ain’t that just the way The road is sweeping us away down the dusty hollows into the grave And I need to keep moving along escaping the movement of my own mind. And he keeps time with the grind on the AM radio and the click of my teeth and we’re running away.
The road is sweeping us away down the dusty hollows into the grave Ain’t it just the way. I can feel the dirt of the grave I’m one handful away It took me ten years to get the needle out of my arm and I have nothing left that I ain’t already gave 
