He died on the road / He died on the road / He just kept on moving / Never reaped what he could sow / And he was a friend of mine (Traditional)

There is a train that races through the night / On rails of steel that reach the soul / Fueled by fire as soft as candle light / But it warms the heart of a love grown cold (Willie Nelson)

We don’t run, we don’t compromise / We don’t quit, we never do (Willie Nelson) By the way: The photoblog awards 2009 are up. If you like what you see, get over and vote for the hobokollektiv.