The finish line’s so far ahead.
I don’t even know who I’ll be when I get there.

But I’m not gonna run,
put my foot on the gas and
drive past the roses
I could be smelling.

In 20 years time,
I’ll be 38
regardless of whether I spend that time fretting
or getting a view of the sea.

I will always be restless,
always anxious to get to that perfect place
that either doesn’t exist
or is where I am now.x