Running Away to Sea
I'm in a boat to Amsterdam. I'm running away again. Somewhere familiar, somewhere I feel safe but far enough away that I'm not worried about being found. I've been here before time and time again but this time it feels different. This time, I'm not excited, as such I'm really taking in my surroundings. The cold, barren ocean, it's never bloody sunny on these trips. It feels like the price of solitude. The old hot tubs still there, it's always a lone guy, they're bloody bonkers. I always miss England until I get to Holland. I never miss England on a plane, why's that? I guess I have more time to think on here. I've just remembered the chaos I caused the last time I was on board this thing. I wonder if they remember? Better be on my best behaviour, the cost of being anywhere familiar. At least I'm not trapped on a bloody plane. At least I can smoke, at least I can walk. Who gives a fuck! What are they going to do? Throw me off the bo...