For You
There's something romantic about driving alone in your car at night listening to music that takes you out of this world. The only thing that matters at the moment is me, myself, and I, in a world that is virtually indifferent to my existence, the mind given free rein to explore reality with a certain flavor that is unique to me and me alone. True romance for me is dead, and so is she, just like the burial of the rose-colored glasses that used to taint my vision of life, clouding sight of how it really is. I'm left with music prompting memories of a distant past that can never be recovered.
