i ran, sweating before i even began, with music
through a tunnel made of silver trees
my heart, as usual, a cheap trick-turning tease
giving away every breath for the moment

armed with an ipod and a credit card
two things i need to make it out at midnight on the road
amongst the homeless and the occasional dude with a blond broad
and nothing else but the heart beat of rubber rolling over concrete

the two times i act stupid are when i'm drinking and when i'm running
at both times the world makes sense, and means nothing, to me
at both times i rediscover the child that exists to exist free
of anyone's constricting point of view on the matter of my happiness