Life is a highway or so I've been told.
I need to approach it with care, not cold.
Rather than north, south, near east or due west,
I must choose the highway that's clearly best.
Some roads are crooked but full of surprises
Where one can be charmed or found by the wisest
sojourner who travels there with his feet.
A wrong turn could lose him, with life less sweet.
Some roads are dead ends, not marked with a sign
That's when I must look at the road's design.
If there's bright gold on this short dead-end road,
It might be all right to lighten my load.
If not, I should move with haste for my fate
perhaps by taking the new interstate
which crosses and covers both wide and tall
surely the richest great highway of all.
It can lead to a heart full of sorrow.
I won't know for sure til way past tomorrow
when life's highway has twisted its last
trek of my journey, my choices then past.
Life is a highway or so I've been told.
I need to approach it with direction, not cold.
Rather than south, north east or due west.
I must choose the highway that's clearly best.
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