read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

March 25, 2008
Sky high
and singing out loud,
driving sixty miles an hour
with the windows down.
Beaming sun and wind tossed hair,
with a breeze blowing through me
like Iím not even there.

How do we hold on
to what we canít even define?
ĎCause Iím moving along
and the dayís just fine,
but how do we know
where tomorrow will begin?
And what if I find myself,
ready to give up again?


The world passes by
as Iím cruising on down,
but Iím trying hard,
and living like Iím free,
because I wonít give up
on things that are unseen.