the miles are closing in
on the truest beauty i can see,
over hills my legs have carried me,
dragging the weight of the world,
freeing myself from all the weight,
all within the same tired revolution

i have kissed good night to hills,
climbed my soul over mountains,
fought my mind through snow,
drenched myself in sweat so thick
i was blinded by its persistence,
(blinded by my persistence)
the moon? it doesn’t scare me,
nor the stars on icy days,
nor the cars that think
they own the road

it is my road,
and i will ride it till tomorrow
(a new tomorrow)
a three-thousand-mile mark
on what a body can do
with a simple revolution.