Interstate

Longer than most people have been alive
Arteries of reality running both ways

What the fern knows

We leave ourselves behind

Seventy-five years down the interstate

I Imagine what I would see pass both ways

No balance required

They all find their way

Freedom doesn't look like this

Fear fuels us in circles

Puts us in our lane

Tracks laid for war machines

Seventy-five years coming and going

Most need to be somewhere

There is no destination

Most speeding

Lost in a present

Built for the future