The end of the habitual

Remember my lucky streak 

When we were granted nothing but green, 

You didn’t want to be seen with me. 

But you brought along a forbidden CD

And allowed me to pay for everything.

Now I drive past these same scenes

And peer into every screen 

Hoping you’d be a nomad like me 

Scavenging the road for signs.

However, the world surrounding 

Is much too literal, the signs we get to see

Only dictate the time it takes to get home.

Blare the radio as you go

Let the chill summer wind seep in,

At least other men’s talents 

Will bring you gratitude of life,

Even if your own only delivers fright.