In sixty-five I was seventeen and running up 101...
I don't know where I'm running now, I'm just running on...
In sixty-nine I was twenty-one and I called the road my own...
I don't know when that road turned into the road I'm on
Well, in 1965, I was 17...and in 1969, I was 21, in Indiana, not California, but I also didn't know.
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels,
I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy it is this feels.
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see they're running too
And there have been times like that as well, when all I could see in my friends' eyes is that they were as lost as I.
Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive ;
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
Trying to keep my life--the people I care about, loved--separate from the day-to-day has often been a struggle (as, I think, it is for all of us).
Everyone I know, everywhere I go,
People need some reason to believe...
I don't know about anyone but me
And belief is something that I have trouble with (I once wrote a haiku about belief:
Here's what I believe:
Belief is a luxury
I cannot afford.)
But it would be nice, once in a while, to be able to believe.
"Running on Empty," from the album of the same name, by Jackson Browne.
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