Drifting around from town to town
after traveling east for a few days
I crossed the road to restart the adventure
perhaps I had gone the wrong way
it did not seem to matter which way I was going
the fact that I was moving was all that mattered

The sun comes up and invites you to a new day
what is the name of this place do I even want to stay
a stranger approaches and bids good day
doesn't mean it - just words to say

Have a nice day, you hear it all the time
the sincerity of it doesn't seem to be there
just hollow words, not from the heart
like a broken record, "have a nice day"

It's none of your business what kind of a day I have
it is my day and I will have whatever kind of day I want
your worn out cliche has all but ruined my day
when the sun goes down then I'll know
what kind of day I had.

A day in the life of a Hobo
By Oklahoma Red

I jumped an empty boxcar one morning not knowing it was occupied, always a precarious situation until you know the other party means no harm. There are pirates on the rails that prey upon the hobos, to rob them, beat them or maybe even worse. This man and I quickly assessed each other to find all we had in common was a need for a ride.
 He came from Georgia, with a story ...to tell. His wife had been murdered and it was he they sought to answer, the cards were stacked against him he had to run away. For months we rode together sharing our meager meals and watching after each other.
I will never forget that evening the phone call he made, his brother-in-law was faithful to keep him informed of the situation back home. That day the killer was caught he was free to go back home. The tears flowed like a river as we wept like babies at the good news revealed.
The friendship ended as he boarded a bus and waved goodbye, I never knew his name - another Hobo law.