What's wrong, what's right
I don't care when I hate my life
What's wrong, what's right
y'know people don't care when they hate their life
But how can I explain personal pain
How can I explain my voice is in vain
How can I explain the deep down
driving, driving, driving,
we're driving, we're driving, we're driving
well, ohhhhhhhhh...

It’d been hours since he’d escaped. He raced like a hawk over the glaciers, invisible, tucking the red cross under so it wouldn’t betray his location. But now, he was getting frigid. The wise Artic lashed at him with her winds, cutting his face with ice crystals. Knife staggered, the frozen breath struggling to escape. He could feel his heart tense, longing for the morphine; but it was frozen in the needles and he was too weak to dare risk dropping the white pills in the snow.

Finally, he fell to his knees, his eyes stitched shut with ice. In last desperation, he raised his arms in the air, struggling to roar. He let his arms fall, head lolling forward, “Damn… that was fun.”