and it was like this. Not like that more like something else. When you finally quit this messenger shit something has to replace that rush. I don't know what I'm trying to say maybe because all night I've been trying to find that thing the thing I got every day for fourteen mother fuckin' years and they paid me for it. Where can I get that without going to war, becoming a cop or some other high danger thing or turning junkie. I miss my two wheeled drug buddy she always came through. "There's still some of the same stuff we got yesterday." Yeah, but that stuff is starting to hurt,,,,,,,,,In a moment of weakness I almost put in a certain song and it would have worked with the theme I was going for but ya' know there's a reason I didn't.
Feel the pavement when you bounce from it, hear the engine of a car roaring behind you, answer the static coming from your two-way, embrace the corner of the box that craves your spine while you´re carrying it in your bag, taste the cold and yet sweet taste of beer when it sparkles in your mouth.