Needed a part for my truck today
went to the junkyard to see what they'd say.
"There's a truck with that part way out in the back.
Go see if you like it we'll send Juan to hack."
As I walked down the rows of cars and trucks
I thought of the people and their bit of luck.
The car that they loved that carried them far
was now on rims, stripped of all that they are.
The kiss at the drive in the song in their head
the space that was treasured now sitting dead.
Pieces and parts in the dirt in each row
what happens to old ones do they really know?