I spent my night sweating through my clothes,
and screaming until my throat ached like burning coals.
Still it’s not right that everything I know gets caught between
the gnashing teeth of the hype machine.

End measured mile.
There was a lasting feeling [bad word] in screaming.

I spent my night driving empty roads,
and feeling more alive than I’ve ever felt at home.
Still it’s not right that everything I love gets lost
between the push and pull of the ego game. And so it goes.
I’ve never felt more alone.

We’re all lost between another road map, another scheme.

End Measured Mile.