I've been pacing down side streets towards the same path that haunts me and traps my viability between your sheets and the concrete beneath me
but i cant wrap my head around the thought of ever waking up
I spent far too much time this year on a thousand highway drives through my own atmosphere The next neon stop sign flashes bright and then it dies like the chances I once had before they all just passed me by
I've come to terms with death and adolescent dreams and how close to me, how close they truly seem to be If I cant make this work, then I'll drive until it burns
Suddenly the planet folds right out in front of me and the engine light reads "Maybe next year, maybe you'll be free"