couches in alleys

Hey Jack it's me,
I don't mean to bother you
but somethings been on my mind.
At the end of this road that climbs the horizon,
will be reached in a matter of miles.
And when the wheels cease to spin,
the walls and the fences will grow higher than redwood trees.
And I know your demise.
And I fear what will happen when the road fails to flow under me.
Oh Jack you see,
I felt like your mirror with the wind ripping through my hair.
When the wheels ceased to spin and I incase my surroundings,
I realized I hadn't gone anywhere.
When the problems I'd left with couches in alleys,
where no one would ever claim.
And the hardest part was sifting through the pieces of the rain soaked and rotten remains
when I got home.