I didn't wear a helmet that night Just so the wind could clear my head All my mistakes have first names I hope the rain will wash my hands Yellow fingers cut through highway The horizon curves the white lines don't Words of poets waft on the gasoline I spread the ashes of my heart in the American sun She is a ripple And I am a chrome jackknife skirting the edge of her wake I searched for freedom In the stone of the two-lane, where secrets live in the dust But I found nothing but capsized dreams And I realized what I had become First light crept in and peeled back my skin I changed my clothes but not my mind Forever a prisoner of the white lies of the freeway