This morning, on the way to Chicago, the song "More than a feeling" by Boston was on the radio. I was actually paying attention to the lyrics for a change, and I heard this:
When I’m tired and thinking cold
I hide in my music, forget the day
And dream of a girl I used to know
I closed my eyes and she slipped away
She slipped away. she slipped away.
Then, not 5 minutes later, a vehicle went by. That vehicle had a vanity plate, with the chick's name on it that (I assume) was driving it. That name just happened to be the same as the one that "slipped away" in my life, the one that my mom keeps rubbing in my face.
I know, I should look her up and go out to dinner with her or something... Blah, blah, blah...
One of these days I'm going to snap again, back into the "I don't give a fu*k" mode. I just wish it would hurry up and happen.
Back on track with the title of this entry though... How is it music can condem itself, but at the same time, bitch-slap me?
"Uno, Dos, Tres, 14"