Strange morning haze in a fog of unreality, certainty of feeling and liquidation of bodies, I think of you awake from your wine drenched slumber and holy, steeled and ready, as you piece together alibis from the latex wreckage of nights spent in bliss, I think of you as I watch the hills roll on towards eternity over a bright Kentucky horizon, and I think of all those people caught somewhere between here and there, I think I am one of them now and it is a blessing to be, I feel blessed to wake and breathe in the fumes of your ever burning engine, wheels pointed towards a future you dared to come, and as I watch you blaze across that sky I am reminded that to feel is to echo, and to echo is to live forever, and if that is my fate then I will storm this burning heaven and teach its flames how to dance