She always felt the need to find her feet
The only real way she had of becoming at one with the world
When people went on a bitch and a moan she simply turned the key in the ignition, found her C.D. and listened in silence on the long drive home
No need to join the Rat Race, feed into it
Happy out, rather relieved to be going at her own pace
To simply sit it out if she gets frustrated, feels a hit of angst
All she had to do was take some time, let the calm wash over
Without a shadow of a doubt, from the leftover whiskey bottle on the floor
Above all else she would need to remain sober

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