The Scattering Moon

A driver on a northern route
Deadly roads and a headlight out
A hitch-hiker stands on the side
Waiting for an unlikely ride.

Where are you headed son?
Have you no destination?
Are you just tired of feeling frozen?
Beneath the scattering moon.

The smell of diesel and black coffee
Filled the cab, the engine humming
The driver rubs his forehead and decalres
The ghosts are out tonight, say your prayers.

The hitch-hiker kept his lips sealed
Looking straight on through the windshield
It's just me and the wolves out there in those fields
Beneath the scattering moon.

Highways are long
Blurry visions and shadows come alive
We break our necks
For payloads and paychecks.

The hitch-hiker said thanks for the ride friend
The driver questioned you want off at this dead end?
But he assured, there are other roads here
Though you can't always see them
Beneath the scattering moon.