The smell of gas
I watch airplanes pass
Wonder what it feels like
To have a place far away to go,
Travel desert sand on motor bike
With a gruff momentary
Love of my life

But my hands are
Too busy shaking
From too much energy,
An idea of saving faded greenery,
Or faded high from a puffing buzz-y

One time
Two times
Three does the trick
I would laugh but
I'm honestly too tired
To use that much muscle
And plus
It keeps your face looking younger
If you don't smile enough
And judging by indifference
We could use a little less ugly

And my eyes,
They'd rather roam
Every inch of land that my feet track
Than fall
For the trick.