Journey

In winter, when highways are empty,
You can get from Point A to Point B;
But when summertime makes its appearance,
Journeys don’t have that same guarantee.

‘Cause everyone wants to go somewhere
When the weather is sunny and warm,
And the cars on the turnpike, like insects,
Come together and make up a swarm.

There are places to go, but to get there,
You suffer through traffic’s embrace;
As frustration climbs higher and higher,
You crawl along at a snail’s pace.

You pictured a glorious weekend,
But soon enough you are bereft;
And after a torturous car trip,
You’re sorry that you ever left!