Everyone knows where the sun must go down <br />but yet in our easterly dash <br />we swim to the west without lifebelts and drown <br />like Johnny, the man they called Cash. <br /> <br />Walk the line while wearing black, <br />fall each time you climb, <br />doing, never to come back, <br />Folsom Prison time. <br /> <br />The train which is a-comin’ is <br />around the bend, he said, <br />our rolling stock is life, show biz <br />for us while nearly dead. <br /> <br /> <br />9/12/03<br /><br />gershon hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/walk-the-line/
