Pa Joad

I was born to the soil, not to this rattlin' truck and these empty highways. I farmed what's mine, fed my own, made my decisions without askin' nobody. Now the land's gone, the bank took it, and the dust buried what was left. Still, I lead this mess down Route 66, tryin' to be the head of something that's still standin'. My hands don't know these roads, but I steer anyway. Ma holds us together more than I do now, but I keep tryin'.