There’s traffic in the sky
And it doesn’t seem to be getting much better
There’s kids playing games on the pavement
Drawing waves on the pavement
Shadows of the planes on the pavement
It’s enough to make me cry
But that don’t seem like it would make it feel better
Maybe it’s a dream and if I scream
It will burst at the seams and
This whole place will fall into pieces
I moved away from home in California 5 years ago to start a new life and clean up my act. I thought it was a good idea. It took 3 years and 4 moves later to finally clean up, and even still I am not the best person. I still have my immaturities and rough spots.
I have become real good at one thing over the last 5 years though. Moving. Disappearing. Changing. Not only have I become good at it, but I even enjoy it. I like the look of my car when it’s packed full of my life’s belongings. I like the feel of the open road, knowing that when I reach my destination I have a new life waiting for me. Wait. A new life? That’s not right. Have I become so diluted as to think that changing my surroundings will fix me? Shouldn’t I have figured out by now that moving does not solve anything? But, then again, getting out of California was good for me, right?