  driving towards the horizon, trying to catch up with the sun, sinking below the line, the blue rocky mountain line, speeding over 80 trying to catch up with my mind a hundred miles ahead of me at all times.
There's answers in Montanna, I think, though I know nothing awaits me there, there's mystery in Montanna even if I know the end of the story even now. One set of dashed lines is all that reigns me in as I pass over twqist into turns I leave behind. Tumbleweed sticks to the grill of my car and it will stay there till it withers and is blown away by time. driving towards the sun setting, the line that keeps just beyond my reach.... driving towards an answer to the speed speed speeding in my brain.
driving to catxh up with something from my past. When I get there I can rest. When I get there I can rest. There's answers in the Dakotas, I think, though i know nothing awaits me there, there's mystery in the Dakotas the I've heard this story before. driving past the lights of withering small towns, trying to find home past the place others make their homes of. driving towards the moon so high and bright I just might catxh it, driving towards the looming dark horizon... when I get there I can rest...
When I get there I will rest... When I find it I will rest... Have I found it, no not yet... not yet... not time to rest... not time to rest... will I find it- no time to think, no time to rest, better drive, keep on driving between those lines... stay between the lines. Stay between the lines. 
