These rolling cowboys, map faced and gray down from the mountains of dawn they will snake stealing through night, burning through day ride ragged canyons against burbling brakes. Broken eared gargoyles that heavily brood the thatches and thaws of transporting goods cross bridges of thought that leave them undewed while weaving through leaves and unmarked woods. "Unskilled labor" the sign of the day signals undying thirst for rapport. A public not privy to docking ballets; drivers are losing a country's support. Marking their status with dutious time devotion to lifestyle; their only crime.