(unmelodious)
I was a family selector
A simple contact inventor
I looked for my core
It was uncalled for
But now
I fly on the highway alone
I don't want to go home
I can imagine a clone
Who goes back to I was born
It could live with my family
It wouldn't be an enemy, like me
I have long since forgotten
What our quarrel was about
I jump in the car to lose them
I escape from what's all around
I put my aim into the trunk
Directly next to the crumb
Of comfort 'cause I don't care
If I don't find them anywhere
I know it's a hunky-dory story
With foolishly easy victory
But I'm only a hunky-dory punk
who thinks it's a hunky-dory grunt
Roaming has already started
Go on the highway to the market
.
.
.
