Would they ever acknowledge the
Sentence to freedom, the
Wandering, quivering, blues that (I)
Want to leave behind me.
The diesel echoes in and out
Of ominous, overcast
Purple anger
And I will travel onward
And I’m ignoring the reflected
Spite spat
Upon the mournful plains.
This moving truck is full.
I’ve left nothing behind
Except for friends, family and Rimma
Who is so much on my mind.
I remember the rainy night
In her apartment’s hush
When the only light in the world
Was the bulb hanging above us.
Rimma’s foreign accent
Was so far away from home.
Rimma’s beauty was so lonely
Rimma’s life was on the roam
I see Rimma on every horizon
When my heart sits frozen in fear.
And now that I am finally on the road
I have left her behind to find her here.
So I am trying to find Rimma
And no matter what happens to me
I will still see Rimma on the horizon
And be graced by her eternity.
