There are those who are off the rails. They are trailed by wannabes.
Some, like me, wish they were but can't. Exept in their mind, because they're stuck in the middle of goddamn nowhere, in every sense.
Perhaps also I'm a bit too momma's boy directed for a lung transplant at 60 and the core of the apple for years after the fire's gone and I want a shiny house with kids inside anyway. I'm better suited for comfort

See what I mean?

A fucked up scale is a teens.

Go to hell you angels. I am Dean. I am Dean