Day In, Day Out, Day In, Day Out, Day In, Day Out.

So, this is inevitable withdrawal, and so far it feels all right. It would be nice to take a holiday away from this place. To just drive, and drive, and drive just to watch the road disappear beneath me. It's quite true, that the best moments in life are when one finds themselves in a familiar complete state of inadequate confusion. I think we were better when we were young, and content to live as bluebirds do. When it was just enough to sit around in a circle and tell stories about pilgrims&indians and make feathered headresses and black puritain caps, and eat popcorn and drink from our juice boxes. What do you say, dearest? But now, there's a man dressed in black, standing in front of me with his hands stretched out, and his teeth are made of wood. His nose is crooked, but his eyes seem nice. He was raised in a one-horse kind of town. Do you remember those times when you were with the person you love the most, just sitting in that car and listening to the badly tuned radio, asking for more time, or quite abstractly asking nothing at all? Sending out one-line wisdom quotations out of the sunroof, into the sky? Wasn't that just enough? To feel love and wisdom and confusion mixing together in one space, to form a completely pure feeling of random organized nostalgic contemplation.