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Nov 2014
I long for the breeze in my hair,
When I pull the roof down,

For the grip of the wheel
in my two hands.

Ten to two, ten to two,
Accelerate and clutch.

To glide along the roads,
That my feet extensions touch.

To be free, and let loose,
The roads, not my noose.

The cold Tarmac a staircase,
To the rest of my life,

The freedom, the beauty,
For it all to be yours truly's.

The world my very own clam.

Four passengers packed in the back,
Or a precious one
riding shotgun,

music will blast,
The lyrics will last,
In the tranquilly stifling air

I shall;
Chase the sun,
And admire the moon.

My travelling days can't come too soon,
Lydia Victoria Kate
Written by
Lydia Victoria Kate  20/F/Cornwall
(20/F/Cornwall)   
352
 
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