(Born to Run) Maybe Part One
Let us go then, you
and I, blasting off
behind the wheel of
a 98' Mustang. The
squeal of gravel flying,
I want to die with you.
We'll run away,
along the sides of
freeways and intergalactic
expressways.
Leave the top down.
I hold the gearshift,
wind whipping and eyes
locking. We'll crash
and burn, like we always
have, like we always will.
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