Sawdust

Here it comes again
The place where the words spill
Like sawdust flies
From the back of a freeway truck
Where the load is always covered
With a blue tarp
But for some reason
The back
Is never tied down.
And they keep coming
Coming
Till I don't know where they'll go
Covered
Drowning
My pencil can't draw fast enough
This chicken scratch and scribble
To communicate my thoughts
And share the uprising in me
My heart my soul and hand
Too much I say!
Now crescendo to more
Know the tune while we write down the score!