It's Friday

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Not the song of the bridges; no, that's not so loud in the summer. Not the lure of the tunnels, because I haven't been to the tunnels for two years and I'm not sure I can go back anymore, maybe not ever again. This time, again, it's the hum of the End of the World, and it's getting stronger, closer than it ever was. North. It's always north. I feel hunted, I feel chased. I want a gun and a supply of canned foods and a full gas tank, and to get on the road, to run, run.

Sweet mother of fucking THIS.