The Little Disaster

red light, the windshield stares me in the face it puts me in my place and let's me know that i'm a slave to this machine. and my mind wanders. to my exiistence in this world, where hatred's such a common word, while stupid people are always telling me what to do and who to be. the rich old men smoke cigars and drive around in fancy cars, they think that they've got everything, but money can't buy happiness. so i'll just takemy time. i'd like to see the worl before i die. i'm not going anywhere for a while, so i'll close my eyes, put my feet up and enjoy the ride. tuesday: "it's open season. give it up. so long" it's hard enough to protect myself, the fear it grips me like a glove, the rain is falling from above a push into reality from the car that's in the back of me. green light, foot to the gas and i'm in motion, following the yellow lines to home.