This one is another one when I though Pearl Jam was king, and I was into writing songs that stuck it to other people. I can't say enough how much I don't really feel this way anymore, but when I just now wrote this out like this, I almost got a chill. Almost.

It reminds me of seeing Bruce Cockburn in 2007 at Kingfest, north of Toronto. I went in thinking, man, do I really want to stay to listen to Bruce Cockburn whine about the environment or some shit like that? Is he gonna look over those stupid round glasses at me and tell me, oh-so-subtly, that I'm an asswipe?

To my very pleasant surprise, he didn't do that, and in fact, played a great friggin' set. Of all the music I heard that day, I walked out of there humming "Waiting for a Miracle". He has a lot of hits, sure, but not THAT many, so the absense of him yelling at me that if he had a rocket launcher some son-of-a-bitch would die possibly meant something in my opinion, unless he just didn't get to do his second encore... I thought, maybe he's just mellowed, who knows?

Although, at one point, he did use the word "dirth", and if I knew him, I'd ask him about that. I'm suspicious of guys who say dirth. Also, it seems I don't know how to spell it, because I can't find it in the dictionary...

Anyway, enough rambling:

Drive, through wild roads alone. We drive. We roam or arrive.

So who do you think you are? What drives your plans? How many people are there in your way? Yeah, you don't want a ride in that thing. Oh, but you wonder why, just from what you're used to, you judge what's inside.

It'll take a dog's pissing. These tires won't blow from kicking... But if you push it too hard, it'll break down and... Break down and...

We drive through wild roads alone. We drive. We roam or arrive.

If you think a shell's indicitave, or a reflection of choice, well, then you've never been poor enough to concede, and you and I don't turn heads quite the same way. Yeah, you and I don't burn things quite the same way.

So clear it's all missing - your windshield fogged from wishing. And if you take it too far... Watch for the edge.

Drive. Now drive.

Darryl Erickson ©2003