The family says it’s gypsy blood

Heather called it broken love

I tell people "itchy feet."

It’s really just the wish to bleed

Travel’s my emotional drug

I’ve Torched my life for it’s seductive tug

Love from my lips, it’s unintentional lies

Only the horizon can hold my eye

Cocaine, sex, whiskey, friends

A touch of Running, My euphoric blend.

Clear new skies, a few fresh faces

My asphault addiction and criminal cases

A Brothers’ jest, my woman’s caress

they’re all just pitstops on the drive towards death

Picket fences, Bright green lawns

Haunting reminders that maybe I’m wrong

But whose to say what road to take?

We’re all just riding towards the grave

The goal’s the orgasm, not the thrust

However you play, I promise you’ll bust.