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Run AwayDo you ever wish you could just run away?Just open the door and walk outOn all your shortcomings, the demands youre not meeting,On ditching your dreams to pretend you dont careOn the forked paths that people are forcing your down, disguising them as choices?But you have to stay put.You have to face forward and sit it out.Because its all part of growing up, right?Wrong.Listen to me, kid.Put on your Jimi Hendrix T-shirt, crawl into your battered jeans and lace up your Allstars.Then you run awayAway, away, away, before those clothes youve just put on are nothing but a faded reminder of what you used to be: A person instead of a machine.Keep Running. Keep running for as long as you possibly can, until theres a stitch in your side and you throat has gone dry and you lungs are on fire, gasping for breathBecause, sooner or later, its going to catch up to you. Just when you think you can run no more, a car will stop by and offer you a lift.And
Railways and Fizz PopsTaking a stroll on a Sunday afternoon, along the railway track and down to the 7-Eleven, with just enough coins in your pocket to clink, but not quite enough to jangle, you stare ahead at nothing in particular and think your empty thoughts, trailing a nonchalant hand against the rusted fencing that separates the railway tracks from the road, in turn also separating the fast-paced and corrupted business world from the sweet naivety of suburbia.The 7-Eleven is crowded, for a 7-Eleven, anyway.You quickly exchange your small, rounded pieces of metal for some smaller, rounder pieces of colourfully burnt sugar and a lollipop, and then youre back off home.You unwrap the acid-green Fizz-Pop and put it into your mouth, and, as you do so, realize that the last time you ate one of these was before youd even had to wear a bra.Looking around you for what seems like the first time in a long while, you realize that its not so much the Fizz Pop thats caused you to reminisce