Regina Puckett
Heading ninety miles an hour down the road
Trying my best not to crash and implode
The windows are rolled all the way down
Letting the wind quietly blow off this town
The music is turned up loud, filling my ears
Shutting out the cries of all of the puppeteers
The strings have been cut and the ties all detached
Fresh courses set and new adventures hatched
The tank is full and the pedal is to the metal
A decision has been made to move on and not settle
Life is way too short and hearts are breakable
But spirits are high and hopes are unshakable