Like projectiles shot from cannons,
The cars go whizzing by.
Four thousand pounds of steel and glass,
Guided by sleeping eyes.
Always when you least expect it,
One will get away;
And another highway worker
Won't see home today.
No matter how safe you are,
With cones, signs and such,
There'll always be those among us
Who've heard that cold steel crunch.
Yet something keeps us out there,
In the danger zone.
It's certainly not the money,
There's never enough at home.
Could it be the danger,
With death so close at hand?
Or is it just the price we pay
To live in this mobile land?
To each his own, the reasons mount,
They're heard time after time.
I don't know the answer why,
I only know the bottom line:
Please be careful when you drive,
The life you save may be mine!
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