I could ride eternal I say whistling out the window while mountains sweep past blown by precious bastard winds toward heaven to be with you-know-who, not me I ain’t going there, I heft my bosoms & wink at the moon glittered against night, bus grinding down the highway headlights high cargo a multitude of saints, where we going I ask again, where we coming from I don’t recall just been on this vehicle since I was birthed, my daddy was a driver & mammy no better, but here I am made holy like any other better than most.