Spinning rubber rides roughly over the pothole ravaged pavement. Reflectors embedded into the road provide the only applicable directions: forward. Enlarged pupils barely strain against the scarcely moonlit highway. LSD and nicotine rush intensely in the veins beneath my skin. Hit 315 North to where the city yeilds countryside. Leafless trees loom over my window breeched path like gallows. Momma's crying at home again. Papa's M.I.A., the devils water has transformed him again so that we all cringe inside when his wild temper blows. Tension at the homefront's been running high so i just drive, drive, drive. I know it's inescapable but sometimes it helps to flee. Chainsmoke the last few cigarettes and feel the cool nights breeze. Times just keep getting harder no matter how far i try to escape; gotta roll up the windows cause a storms a comin' in.