These cities are distractions, reactions to my heart’s fractions. Security breeds obscurity and options become complications. Communications… don’t help. I only miss you more. And this is a safe haven for restlessness, a comfort that i can’t express. It’s a fridge full of food and it’s a bed on the floor. But it’s your home, it’s your door. And i’m not sure… I wanna make it mine. I’m not sure at all… I’m walking down a hollow hall, and every door is open. The choices are winding roads and lightning bolts. They’re fires burning and constant wheels turning. They’re sailing ships or co-op memberships. They’re Panama, or Canada… Moving on or Moving back. They’re you… or not. They’re thundering technicalities and meaningless menialities… sleepless and complex and hopeless.
Just release, rejoice… and pedal. Juno take me home, ride with me alone, keep a steady pace, I’m looking for a familiar face.