Upon my motorcycle I ride, the wind blows through my hair.
No cage to keep me locked up in, I’m going, I know not where.
The land I see from all accounts the mountains traveled high,
The cowboy days they may be gone as the miles they go by.

The sun does rise and set upon the glass that shields my eyes,
Though wind is brisk and rain can hurt, happiness never dies.
A dieing breed I dare say not! For our numbers always grow.
Though one should lie down and reach the clouds two more will ever go.

The rolling hills the highway sings and peace is in our souls,
Feel the freedom, forefathers rang, for us the bell it tolls.
Taking it fast or taking it slow it really never matters.
Only stopping to fuel again or if the engine clatters.

Sit on my bike behind me and see if what I say is true.
Or get your own and travel with me, see for yourself anew.
I feel the rumble of freedom it dances between my legs,
I see you staring from your cage and know in your heart it begs.

You wish you were free to just stop and see,
Or maybe wish that it were you not me.
But long all you want; it’s you I taunt,
You’ll forever be roped and not free.

Copy write: 2001 Written by: Pernell R. Rodocker 3/24/02