Just another Sunday afternoon spent driving around instead of church. I'm stuck behind some woman who thinks her grandkids are cuter than mine and doing everything in my power to stop thinking. I look up and suddenly I'm at 33rd South. It bothers me that no matter how hard I try I can't get lost in this city. I guess living here for 20 years makes that tough. I am craving that feeling though. The feeling of being lost. All alone. The rush of wondering when I'll make it back, if anyone would even notice or if my triumph of making my way back would just be mine and mine alone. Something I'd cling to when things get hard and I'd remind myself of that time I was lost and found my way back. But I didn't find that feeling today.
And I realized I now keep the volume on an even number at all times, I guess you rubbed off on me. My fantasy of running away is still in tact and getting stronger everyday. I just want to keep driving and never stop.
Like the clouds move across the sky
and I'll follow them until we both dissolve.