Hunched over, staring at the blurry patch of the rug between my boots
I was commanded to sit up straight and look
I watched those verbose pearls roll off the tongues of my elders
And ground them into dust under my hoof
I’m still hard-headed, and I still can’t stand people living all over me
But those hard-headed folks pushed me into my own way of doing right and getting free

Trying to ride

My shoulder to the B pillar, I strained for the conversation
Yelling through the wind at the boys sitting inside
Watching hot rocks skitter out the black gap in the window
And into the cosmos and headlights
But night swept along the side of the cab, and it swallowed up every sound
My dark hair crept across my burning cheek, and I turned on back around

Trying to ride

She cut off Heaven 810, and
Looked down at me with her stern, dark eyes
Said: "It don't matter how good it sounds;
Don't you never sing a lie."

Trying to ride