I Drive


I'm driving down a road to nowhere
 - like hell, it's paved with good intentions - 
I keep driving and thinking and growing older,
sitting, waiting for divine intervention.


They tell me what to do and where to go
They tell me what to be and how to think
They push my friends into jobs they hate
and watch them descend into anger and drink.


"sciencetechnologyengineeringmath that's where the money is
don't worry don't think just live and breathe big biz
be a doctor be a lawyer marry rich give me grandkids
don't be an individual and don't be an 'idealist' god forbid"


They promise big houses and fancy cars,
vintage guitars and thick cigars,
if only I'll put myself behind their bars.
But I'm the only one who has to live with my scars.


So I choose a life of living more with less
in far-off adresses with little excess,
of professing peace and helping the oppressed,
of diplomacy and progress and having no regrets,
as a Foreign Service Officer for my U.S.


My life's not careening out of control.
I decide where my car is heading.
I know I'll hit speedbumps and pay many tolls
but it will be worth it at my journey's ending.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741