more than thirty-three miles
 too long for these sedentary legs
 trying to race the sun
 trying to find my way home
 
 with little headwind and my blue-sky view
 Pandora playlist popping me along
 everything should be perfect
 everything should be all right
 
 but rejection trails behind tire spins
 blocking my perfect peak view
 making me regret it again, again
 making me wish i never left
 
 what is it about me that they hate?
 that is the constant question i ask
 trying to find February sun
 trying to be the me they want