Rainy days in the country, I sleep like I'm locked in a coffin but too tired to interpret the reference. Your unconscious will speak and speak for days if you let it, best perhaps to ignore it for a bit. Everything feels far away, the urgency, the immediacy, nothing really matters in a country town that's sleeping, not even your bank account bothers to yell at you.
Whoever said you can't run away from your problems maybe didn't run far enough.
You wonder how much time you bought with the miles.
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