You go by, fast paced and full speed ahead
and I dont even question, I can't see ahead at all,
but I follow, increase my own pace and try to keep you in my vision.
100 miles per hour, but as long as I'm with you I convince myself I'm safe.
When did I stop believing?
In my own ability to go forward slow, set at my own rythym and alone?
I remember a time, filled with walks and songs, singing, I heard my own voice.
Blackberry bushes and wide open skies screaming blue.
Summers before I gave myself to you.
There was a breakage, a severing of life.
An attempt to merge into another person.
I wanted to, so much, but you wouldn't allow me to.
The motorcyle is feeling shaky now
The wind pushes so hard- trying to send a message and pry me off you.
But I cling to you as if I am clinging to my very existence, because I believe I am.
We speed ahead. It's dark and I know I'll never see light, only meet dead ends.
And somewhere inside, I know its this simple: You simply get OFF the ride.
But I push that thought away.
I prefer the lonely nights spent pretending that you care.
When really, you're not there.
You're feel speed ahead, headed toward a place where I don't exist.
Still, you go, and I follow, searching for the place you are, somewhere I'll never find.
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