After seventeen years of br Living and breathing and feeling br I almost want to rewind everything br And start over again br To take the home video br And pop it in the VCR br Press the double, left-facing arrows br And watch that baby roll br br Backward, to where bikes br Were all we had to get around br Speeding every inch of rubber br Off of those blue demons br We raced down the dirt road br Like all we held dear was a mile away br And we’d fall and jump up, starting again br Like fresh legs on a morning run br br But now it sits there in its malign majesty br Propped against the chipped and battered barn br With deflated wheels and a crooked steering wheel br That was wrecked the day I never fixed it br The day I turned seventeen br br Now when I walk out on that same road br I feel my feet sink in the soft dirt br I don’t even know what I need br I trip and my skin opens, and I bleedbr br Tim Larsenbr br