You need to turn the volume up.
There is no one else to give the wheel to.
You must wake yourself up.
Turn the volume up.
Please.
When the moon was halfway down
You didn’t take a fucking walk;
Because just as hard as it is to run with the weight of lead,
It is just as hard to think with gold inside your head.
Now the keys are in the ignition
And a few more glasses of that sweet rum gone.
You are drunk and you are driving;
With our entire aching humanity in your back seat.
Who is the Guru in this silver Audi?
There is no one here.
You are almost asleep at the wheel.
The Guru reminds you that you know the way home by heart.
Wake up.
The Guru reminds you that you are drunk and we all could die at any moment.
Please, once again: wake up.
The Guru reminds you that all of humanity depends on your driving tonight.
Darling, again.
The Guru reminds you that we all get home safe as long as you
Wake up.
Now.
Now
NOW!
You must not stop waking up again until we are all home safe.
This may feel like a dream but this is very real.
Who is the Guru on this gauntlet drive?
Who put the keys in your hand?
You did.
We’ve been drunk our entire lives and just now realize we are driving the whole babe of
humanity home in the backseat of this silver Audi.
On two misaligned axels,
Three wheels flat out of four,
With the Guru in your head where
the gold used to be:
Tuning in and out to the melodious static
Ricocheting through mountains,
We make a home in the car that could be our coffin.
The sooner the scenery loses its novelty;
The sooner you realize we are already home,
The sooner we get to stop driving.
Please,
I supplicate:
Do not crash.
I am but a baby in the seat behind you.
Before you know it,
We have been home this whole time.
So again:
Wake up!