400 miles to go
There is no hope for me, hell no. 400 miles to go on this god forsaken highway with no headlights, a quart of Jim Beam Black, a pack of cigarettes and a cd with Psychotic Reaction by The Count Five. Only me and the road; no other trafic tonight. The wheel is shaking lightly as the car flats out at 100 miles/hour but with a steady hand I still have full control. Never over the Edge, remember that, boys and girls.
Ramblings. Again. I'm not in a car without headlights, no, but it feels just like that. Desperate measures in desperate times. Or? Hell no, we can't stop, not even for gas. At least I can't; I speed down the highway causing wreck after wreck, loosing a little bit of myself every time. Get use to it, that's the 21st century way. It sure is.
Nothing beats the thrill of doing IT. No, not sex, but a more universal feeling when the car suddenly shakes and you sense that it's going down the ditch and flipping over but with a forceful tug on the wheel you get it up and going down the paved road again. Damn, that was close, but that's how We like it. We; the Loosers of our Time. The Outlaws, worse than Hells Angels; we mess up your emotions and feelings. Too bad, too bad. It could have been better in another time maybe. Just maybe.
I'm barely listening to myself right now. Words just pouring down from my fingers and seemingly randomly they appear on the screen. What's wrong with me? Why can't I be like the others?
It's 'cause I choose this life for me. Good choice, ey? Enjoy your friends, thrills, parties, hobbies; one day they might be gone. But not for me, no. I will always have them, even after the countless wrecks I've caused on this badly paved highway. Speeding. No pigs to give me a ticket, no trafic cameras. If I keep my foot on the pedal hard and long enough then everything will be okay. Keep telling yourself that; keep telling my that for that matter.
Keep on Driving, Never Slow Down; that's when They GET YOU. Remember that.
Ramblings. Again. I'm not in a car without headlights, no, but it feels just like that. Desperate measures in desperate times. Or? Hell no, we can't stop, not even for gas. At least I can't; I speed down the highway causing wreck after wreck, loosing a little bit of myself every time. Get use to it, that's the 21st century way. It sure is.
Nothing beats the thrill of doing IT. No, not sex, but a more universal feeling when the car suddenly shakes and you sense that it's going down the ditch and flipping over but with a forceful tug on the wheel you get it up and going down the paved road again. Damn, that was close, but that's how We like it. We; the Loosers of our Time. The Outlaws, worse than Hells Angels; we mess up your emotions and feelings. Too bad, too bad. It could have been better in another time maybe. Just maybe.
I'm barely listening to myself right now. Words just pouring down from my fingers and seemingly randomly they appear on the screen. What's wrong with me? Why can't I be like the others?
It's 'cause I choose this life for me. Good choice, ey? Enjoy your friends, thrills, parties, hobbies; one day they might be gone. But not for me, no. I will always have them, even after the countless wrecks I've caused on this badly paved highway. Speeding. No pigs to give me a ticket, no trafic cameras. If I keep my foot on the pedal hard and long enough then everything will be okay. Keep telling yourself that; keep telling my that for that matter.
Keep on Driving, Never Slow Down; that's when They GET YOU. Remember that.
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