I like the sound of the rain bouncing off my leather jacket.
I like the smell of the *** smoke in my hair.
I like the burn of the ***** in my throat.
And I know that this will get me no where.
But right now I don't care.

I sometimes get the urge just to pick up everything and disappear.
Leave no trace cut all ties to the life I've made.
Run to some foreign place and become so famous that the whole world can see my face.
Or maybe I'll vanish into the woods and become nothing more than a story parents tell their kids at night.
I just want something more than this.