I said I was ok, and really, I am. But, lastly, one more episode of navel gazing and then I’ll get to the stories.
What is wrong with me when I’m crying the day I am born? when I see day care more than my parents? when I don’t get elected Vice President of my 5th grade class? when my family moves and I never see my best friend again? when I grow long hair in Texas, before Willie, and it’s not cool? when I’m blitzed to buy everything I don’t need? when I’m told to not eat eggs? when I’m told to take drugs? when my tax money bombs woman and children? when I cant drive to work because of riots? when my date cancels, day of, me holding the tickets? when my next date cancels, day of, me holding the tickets? when the glove doesn’t fit?
Driveabout 