Not Tomorrow
by Candace
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I just use them for fun.
Author's Notes: Written for the Nick Zone "Journeys" LyricWheel. Thanks to Amazon X for the song, although I can pretty much guarantee that this is nothing like she had expected. [g] This is a great song that could be used to inspire any number of wonderful angst-ridden stories, and hopefully one day it will. However, for some reason I couldn't wrap my head around angst this time around.
Rated: SATF-PG for Schmoop Alert, Total Fluff and one mild sex scene
Pairing: Started out as Vic or Alex, but somehow ended up as M/K.
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OCTOBER
It was Fox's birthday a few days ago. I have to say I was surprised at how touched he was with my gift. Usually on our birthdays or Christmas we just exchange token items, just any little something to acknowledge that the other has remembered that the day is special. This year I got Fox a gold-trimmed, leather-bound journal. He really enjoys recalling stories of our travels together, and sharing them with others that we meet on the road. And when alone, we sit or lie together and I listen to him reflect on events, whether they be recent or long past, and how it makes him feel, what he's learned, whatever comes to his mind, all coming out in a kind of stream-of-consciousness monologue. I treasure listening to that mind of his, and thought he might enjoy writing some things down. So I gave him the journal. He was touched not only that I recognized the inner writer that was hiding inside him, but also in the medium I gave him to record his musings. A book. Pen and paper, nothing electronic about it. I knew he'd want the journal as soon as I saw it. There are times when the world seems like it's advancing so fast, so far out of our control, that we need to hold on to the comfortable manifestations of our childhoods, from the time BC, before computers. Makes us feel rooted. Sure, we feel rooted to each other, but it's also nice to feel like we'reboth rooted to a common past. So imagine my surprise when he hands me this notebook today. Told me he thought it was such a good idea that he wanted *me* to keep a journal, too. I argued that it wasn't the same thing at all. Unlike him, I had neither the discipline nor the desire to record my introspective reflections on anything, whether it be people or the world or the wonders of what a wet leaf looks like after the rain (yes, Fox had a lot to say about that). But he just grinned that evil grin of his and gave me that devilish look, telling me he didn't care what I wrote, as long as I was disciplined to write something, anything, once a month, for one year. It was a dare. He bet me that I couldn't be bothered to stay with it for 12 months.So I took him up on it, and here I am. So, end of entry #1.
NOVEMBER
Guess I should mention that Fox and I have been traveling North and South America in an RV. A Class A Fleetwood Excursion 30-foot motor home, to be precise. It wasn't the mode of travel that we started off with; I guess you can say that we gradually evolved into it. Can't say how long we'll keep it up, but it's been quite awhile now, and it suits us. Thanksgiving with the other RVers was good, with interesting stories all around, for the most part. Seeing it in writing makes it sound corny and conjures up stereotypes of boring and weird people. Guess the reason I think that is because it's the image I had in my mind when I thought of people like that, before I became one of them myself. But by and large the people we meet at RV campgrounds and stations have a lot in common with me and Fox. Most of them have paid their dues to society, and now they just want to live without punching a timecard, and want to stop and smell the roses. Well, not that we can talk about it with outsiders, but no one has paid their dues to society more than the two of us. Helping to prevent alien colonization definitely qualifies as paying our dues, thank you very much. Back then there never seemed to be enough time. For years it felt like every minute of every day I was racing the clock, sometimes trying to stay ahead of the game but mostly just trying to keep up. It does something to you when you spend years not knowing if you'd live to see the end of the day. Fox told me he'd felt that way, too. That's why when it was over we just needed to slow down, breathe, and relax. And we've been doing just that ever since.
DECEMBER
Christmas was quiet. Nice. Just the way we like it. Fox has a habit of giving me anything green as my gift. Green shirts or sweater, usually, since he says he likes how it makes my eyes stand out. This year he gave me a green thermal cap that can extend low enough to keep my ears warm during our long hikes through the winter woods.
On today's hike we were in the middle of a heated discussion about who would be playing in this year's SuperBowl. Of course,according to him everything he said was valid and nothing I said made any sense. He can be a real prick like that, when he gets on his argumentative high-horse. Sure, it was only football, but he made a point of making me sound like a complete moron. He was really started to piss me off and I was just about ready to tell him to fuck off, and then I'd hightail it back to the RV and head down the mountain and leave him stranded in the woods for awhile. It would have served the smug bastard right. But just as I was ready to spit the words out at him, Fox suddenly shouted "Stop! Stay right there!" He then took a few steps backwards and just stared at me. When I asked what the hell he was doing, he just smiled and said he was enjoying the sight of my green eyes and green cap surrounded by the sea of green pines behind me. And then he came up and kissed me. He likes to keep me off balance like that. Bastard.
You know, I never once gave a flying fuck about my eyes until he came along. In my mind (selfishly) the best thing he ever did was get those contact lenses that correct for color blindness, and later, when the color-correction laser surgery came along, he jumped at it. I've gotten used to waking up in the morning and seeing his drowsy eyes watching me, sun through the windows splashing across his face, and hearing him say "It's going to be another sunny and green day. Beautiful." I know he means my eyes. And me.
JANUARY
A lot of people see our motor home and assume that we spend all of our time in the wilderness or on the road. But most major cities have RV parks, and Fox and I have enjoyed getting to know big cities as much as we have the national parks and small towns. Made it to Virginia in time for a big fancy New Year's Eve bash in D.C., and we'll probably stay here for a few weeks so that Fox can spend time with his old friends. As long as we're in this neck of the woods, we're planning on heading over to the Quonochontaug and Chilmark houses, too. It's nice to take a break from the motor home and spend time in a big house for awhile. In addition to Mulder's family homes, we've been fortunate, financially, to be able to buy a few homes that we have scattered across the States, any one of which is where you'll find us when we're not on the road.
FEBRUARY
Fox had a good time hanging out with his old buds, but we've been headed southwest for awhile now. Stopped at a bar to warm up from the snowstorm that had just passed and kicked back a few brews while listening to the karaoke singers. Seemed like every one of them sang particularly saccharine love songs to their partner in the audience. When a woman seated near me heard me comment on this to Fox, she explained that all of the song selections today were especially sweet, since it was Valentine's Day. She could see that I had forgotten what today was, as did Fox. We shrugged at each other, knowing that sometimes on the road the days just drifted by without meaning. She joked that neither one of us would have forgotten the date if we had wives or girlfriends. Well that of course resulted in a solid kiss between me and Fox, which I thought would have put her in her place, but she just smiled at us and showed us the gold heart she wore on a delicate chain around her neck. Said her husband, seated with her, had just given it to her for Valentine's Day, and asked what we had given each other. Flowers? Candy? Not even a card? She just kept going on and on, as if we were the only lovers in the entire bar who hadn't presented a token of our love to each other. I excused myself briefly, and upon my return, the woman was still at it. She looked at her watched and told us it was a shame that at this hour the stores were probably closed, and it was too late for us to run out and get something for each other. I told her that wasn't necessary, since I too had a large gold heart for my man. It was so much larger than the heart that she had been given, and I didn't want to flaunt it, so I had left it back at the RV. Fox's eyebrows rose at that, and he came with me to see it, as did the woman and her husband. Fox burst out laughing when we got outside. There on the ground next to the RV was an immense gold heart with "F + A" written inside of it. It was my gift of eternal devotion, made from piss lovingly anointed across the blanket of snow.
MARCH
The days before springtime have been clear and crisp. We're far enough along the back roads so that the view of the nighttime skies are unimpeded by the glare of city lights. It's nights like these when we just enjoy the view that the stars present to us. It took us a long time to be able to feel good about them again, without the niggling fear in our bellies of impending doom. On our backs on the blanket, we stare upwards. I tilt my head and see the starlight twinkling in Fox's eyes. I go to take his hand just as he is reaching to take mine. We hold hands, comforted in the knowledge that when our time is done on this Earth, that it will not come from above.
APRIL
Fox took full advantage of the spring warm-up and the fact that we were isolated in the mountain forest at this time of year, still too early for the usual tourists. We were the only campers within miles. We got up yesterday morning and after breakfast I asked him how he wanted to spend his day. He opened the door and commented on how wonderfully warm it was outside. Then he turned to me and I saw him get that angry "Krycek!" look in his eyes. This was one of my favorite games, and so while I smiled on the inside, I wore the appropriate look of terror on the outside. "M-Mulder?" I asked hesitantly. He couldn't help it, he let a small grin appear that showed how pleased he was with the stutter I had added for extra effect. But then he got back into anger-boy mode and came at me, ripping off my clothes. He yelled at me that invertebrate scum suckers such as myself do not deserve to be clothed, and he pushed me naked out of the door so that I fell to the ground. He threw my socks and gym shoes at me and screamed at me to run for my life, since if he ever caught up with me again I would get the punishment I deserved. So I put my shoes and socks on, trying to visibly quake in fear for his benefit, and turned to run. The hunt was on.
Fox gave me my usual head start, so I managed to get quite far before I had to stop and rest. I found a good hiding place, and while I caught my breath I began to prepare myself with lube. I knew when Fox had thrown my socks at me that I'd find packets of lube inside of them, but there were several more than I had expected. I figured that meant he was planning on a very long day! I heard a noise and peeked out to see if it was Fox. Sure enough, there he was, nude and being led by his erection that was pointing the way. The sight of him hunting for me like that made me instantly hard. When he spotted me I took off at a full run, trying my hardest to outrace him. But try as I might, running through the forest trails wasn't an easy thing to do, and I soon felt the weight of him on my back, pushing the both of us down. He was fully inserted inside of me by the time we hit the ground, and the force of the impact made it feel like I was being split in two. His arm came around my neck as he forced my head up, his mouth to my ear as he angrily told me I deserved to be punished and all the nasty things he planned to do to me, all while rutting furiously. When he was done with me, I moved out from under him in mock horror. I hadn't come, and although it wasn't easy in my unsatisfied condition, I cursed him and began to run away from him once more. I knew Fox would give me enough lead time again, especially since he needed a long time to recoup. So we played the same scenario over again after he finally found me almost two hours later. I pretended to beg for mercy, but he still let me have it good. When he was done with me, I turned the tables. I threw him off of me so that he landed on his back, and I slammed myself on top of him, crushing his throat with my arm. "Don't touch me again," I warned, venom in my voice and eyes. I raised his arms so that they were extended on the ground above his head and ordered him not to move at all, not one muscle. And then I touched him, in all sorts of ways, until I finally got the release I'd been waiting for all morning.
In the past, when we had first started with this game, he used to yell the litany of my sins when he took me, and tell me all the reasons that he wanted to punish me. It was a cleansing experience for us both, and it eventually helped us to deal with some of the issues between us. But now when Fox yells at me that I'm getting what I deserve, he means that I deserve to have fun, just like he does.
MAY
Damn him! Why does he have to be such a stubborn bastard?! He *had* to start trouble, he was *itching* to. We were in the back hills of southern Appalachia, so far off the beaten path that we barely got the motor home up to that small godforsaken town. The place had one main street, one stop light, and no where to park an RV. So we left the RV on the outskirts of town and went about on our hike, looking for Civil War artifacts in the woods. Fox's latest interest was pursuing the rumored hidden treasures of the Confederate army, strategically buried over the entire south, and found only by obscure markings on trees and rocks. We didn't need the money; the object was the hunt itself. We returned to town empty-handed and settled in for a drink at the bar. Saloon was actually more like it; the town may not have much, but apparently they really valued a place to drink since the saloon was probably the biggest place of business on the entire main street. So there we are, kicking back a few, and getting stared at by a crowd of locals. We had two things going against us right from the start. First, this town never got tourists or even people passing through, and it was clear they didn't like outsiders. Second, there was this business of the Confederate treasure that they heard us talking about. With the looks they started giving us, I quickly came to the conclusion that if such a treasure did exist near their remote town, then they sure as hell wouldn't want any outsiders to get anywhere near it. That all said, I don't think anything would have happened that night except for us getting our fill of dirty looks, if Fox had behaved himself. But when he noticed their stares, he had to badger them. "Hey, if the treasure's real, it's there for the taking," he said to them. They weren't happy. As he was talking, he began to absently caress my hand, which of course I could tell they noticed immediately. A guy came to our table and demanded to know if we were fags, and Fox told him "Sorry, but we don't do threesomes." The guy announced, or yelled really, to the whole place that they had themselves a couple of queers here. We were asked, not so politely, to leave immediately. We might have left at that point without any trouble. But no, Fox apparently thought that there would have been no fun in that. So he tells the men that the two of us were probably the only ones in the whole town whose parents weren't brother and sister. The fists started flying, and there were so many of them that there was no way we were going to get out of there. Luckily, or so I thought, the sheriff was there in a matter of minutes to put an end to things. But when he found out the particulars, we were thrown in their jailhouse for three weeks! Separate cells! This was totally the local brand of justice. Goddamn town, so small and remote it's almost not even on the map, and yet the two biggest, most ornate buildings it has are the saloon and the jailhouse. I felt as if I had been transported back to the old West. I could kill Fox for bringing this on. Three weeks on a hard cot with terrible food is not my idea of a good time. If he thinks I'm going to forgive him when we get out of here he has got another thing coming. He'll find out what it's like to sleep on the sofa for the first time in years.
JUNE
He's back in my good graces and back in my bed. I know he loves me, even when he's in the doghouse, or on the sofa or whatever. But he knows my temper and he knows when he's wrong, and he's willing to pay the price until I come around. And as I tend to hold a grudge I spent the first part of the month still absorbed in my residual anger, still ignoring him as best I could within the confines of our quarters. When my birthday rolled around I planned to tell him a quick "Thanks" for whatever gift he came up with and then go on ignoring him, treating him like a dog that soiled the carpet. Well, that was the plan, anyway. When he presented me with a tiny jewelry box, it was obvious that he had aborted the usual green clothing tradition. Unless it was a green earring, which was possible I guess. But I was totally dumbfounded when I saw what was inside. It was a 24-karat gold pin in a triangular shape, which upon closer inspection was clearly a slice of pie. He was watching me, and I could tell that he knew the moment when my understanding clicked because I could feel my eyes turn from idle curiosity to being overwhelmed, and I knew he could see that transformation. I'll be damned; he remembered.
I hadn't seen him for about a year at the time. We had last worked together as part of an international global consortium, which had united in a last ditch effort to prevent the alien invasion. Being two players in such a huge field we didn't see each other that often or work together that closely, but when we did, Fox at least acknowledged me as a fellow soldier battling a common enemy. During those busy years we built a mutual respect, out of necessity if nothing else. When the "fight" was finally over it was almost surreal; they ended up leaving without invading, and the biggest threat ever imposed upon our planet came and went with 99% of the population remaining in blissful ignorance. I was in Russia at the time, and it took me and my team quite awhile for the wonderful truth of it all to really sink into our bones. We spent weeks just sitting around with the vodka, since the previous few years in battle did not afford any of us dedicated soldiers the opportunity for a good long drunk. But I felt a pull inside of me to return Stateside, and I let it take me there without questioning it too deeply. I accepted a high-level intelligence job in D.C. and had been working there for several months when I ran into Fox on the street after work. We exchanged a few polite words on the corner, but the weather was bitterly cold and not conducive to outdoor chit-chat, so I asked him if he'd join me for a cup of coffee for old times' sake. He said he had a dinner engagement later that evening but that he had time for a coffee. In the coffee shop we caught up with each other's roles during the last months of the war and eventually got around to what each of us was doing now. It was pleasant conversation, something I don't think I had ever experienced with Fox before except for a few times when we had been partners on the Grissom and Barry cases. But even back then he was mostly business. It felt good to be talking with him, and yet I couldn't ignore the fact that my belly was entertaining a swarm of fluttering butterflies. I realized I hadn't felt this way since the last time we had been together, however briefly that had been, in some conference room. I always knew I had a thing for him, but never had the chance to do anything about it, just as I suspected that the same was true for him. The butterflies increased as I occasionally caught him staring at me in ways that confirmed my suspicions about his feelings for me. After a long while he glanced at his watch and said he had to be careful of the time, and yet we just kept right on talking and eventually we both ordered another coffee. By this time it was getting late and I ordered a slice of warm apple pie to tide me over until he had to leave for his dinner engagement. As we drank our coffee I kept noticing how Fox was eyeing my pie, and joked that if it was that tempting then he should just order some for himself. But he declined, saying that he didn't want to spoil his appetite. I told him it was very good and that one little piece wouldn't spoil anything, and he agreed and began to search his side of the table for a clean fork. He was uncurling his fork from the napkin that it was rolled up in when I let my instincts take over; I quickly shoveled a piece of pie onto my fork and reached across the table, holding it an inch from his mouth. He looked at me and when our eyes met we somehow both knew that things would never be the same if he accepted my offering. It seemed as if time stood still at that moment. But then he opened his mouth and I slowly, gently, eased in the pie, and just as slowly eased out the fork from between his closed lips. Some crumbs had managed to linger on those lips, and I set the fork down so that I could caress the crumbs away with my thumb. We looked at each other again, and I remember absurdly thinking that the crumbs were long gone and yet I couldn't seem to stop caressing him. Needless to say, Fox never made it to his dinner engagement. It was something we had never talked about, not even once. And yet he had remembered that innocuous piece of pie as the grand symbol that it was; the beginning of us as "us".
JULY
Fox's unique and stellar ability to discover patterns that no one had noticed before still remains in full force even though he is no longer an agent. We had recently been camping at several RV parks across many states, traveling a route that was well-established and popular amongst RVers. Fox had read in a local newspaper about a grave robbery, where the only thing missing was one of the corpse's arms. One month and two states later, he came upon another local newspaper story where a grave had been vandalized and the leg of the corpse was missing. Working on a theory that only he could come up with, he got on the computer and telephone and called newspapers and police departments that had been located along the path we had traveled. Sure enough, he found that across a few states there were cemeteries that reported similar incidents, with different pieces of anatomy missing. They were all located along or near this "RV route". Using this information and a profile of the "perp" that he formulated, he was able to predict when and where the next grave defiling would occur. The cemetery in question was staked out, and within a week the grave robber was caught in the act. The robber confessed on the spot, and he led the police to his RV, where they found the gruesome reality of a body made up of body parts obtained from several different corpses. Turns out the man had lost his wife in a terrible car accident in which she had been beheaded. The head hadn't been found, so she had been buried without it. Days after the funeral, the man had revisited the scene of the crash and began to wander about aimlessly, in total grief. Far off in a field, hidden under the brush, he accidentally came upon her severed head. This was the moment that we believed he lost his sanity. He took her head and took off in their RV, never wanting to return. He talked to his wife's head as he traveled, as if she had never died. But then he decided that he wanted a body for her. He didn't want to upset anyone by stealing the entire body of someone else's loved one, so he decided to just take a part here and there, figuring that if just a piece was missing it wouldn't be too hard on the relatives. So he slowly built a body for her, piece by piece over the miles. After all these years, we are still amazed at the peculiarities of the human spirit and what intense emotions, in this case grief, can lead one to do.
AUGUST
We're at war against the invading colonists! Okay, so technically Fox and I are the invaders in this particular territory. This afternoon in a state park a couple of chipmunks hit me up for some food. One stared at me and wagged its tail, just like a cat, and another one stood on his hind legs and sniffed. So I broke down and fed them some Cheetos -- a monumental mistake! The chipmunk grapevine works fast here, and within a few minutes we were fighting to keep a dozen of them from jumping on our laps. It was a losing battle, so we ran and hid in the motor home. Thirty minutes later the coast was clear, so I went back outside to read. After a few minutes I felt the hairs on the back of my neck tingle, a surefire warning sign that has always alerted me to trouble. I looked up from my book to see a hoard of the creatures peeking out from the brush at the periphery of the clearing. One of them left the group and dashed up onto my lap, looking up at me with huge brown eyes and telling me "Mister, we want Cheetos. You give `em to us now and there won't be any trouble, okay?" I told him that I didn't have any more, but he wasn't buying it. So I stood up and watched him fall to the ground, running back to the pack but not retreating any further than that. I stood there staring at them all staring at me, and decided that there was no other choice to be made. I declared war, and went inside for my weapon. Fox and I came out with our pistols loaded. A few brave creatures approached our shoes in hope, and they were each shot smack in the head by our water pistols. Soon it was an all-out attack, with the rear coming up to the front to take over for the leaders, who had retreated once hit. But they did not stay back for long. They would just run back to the bushes, and then these wet chipmunks, veterans of their earlier assault, would return. It didn't take long to figure out that they were enjoying this war! The brave ones even took 3 or 4 shots before retreating; these were the kamikaze chipmunks. We fought bravely to defeat these mini-beasts, but we were clearly outnumbered, and had no desire to waste our water supply any further. So with our ammunition and confidence dwindling, we retreated to the motor home, defeated. There are some wars we don't mind losing.
SEPTEMBER
Today we had a good workout, a long run followed by lifting weights. We have so much more time to keep fit compared to when we had jobs. I think we are more fit today than we ever have been before.
OCTOBER
Time is really flying by, seems more than ever before. It was one year ago today, on Fox's last birthday, when I gave him hisjournal and I started mine. Seems like it was just yesterday. Yeah, I won the bet, I was able to keep up with this for 12 months, just like I said I could. I had asked Fox what he'd like for his birthday this year, and he said he wanted to be able to read my notebook. I laughed, because I had no idea the thing was supposed to have been private, and I had assumed that he had been reading it all along. I told him that he was bound to be disappointed, since he wasn't going to get the deep, introspective philosophical thoughts that I was sure he was entering into his gold-trimmed journal. But it was what he wanted, so in lieu of going to the store to buy him a gift, I tossed him my notebook. Took him all of five minutes to read it, but he smiled and thanked me when he was done. Then he hugged me and ruffled my hair. I knew what that meant. It's what he does when he thinks of me as childlike or inexperienced in some area, as someone who needs to be taught how to do something correctly. Knowing what was coming, I grinned even before he removed his hand from my hair, and sat and waited for my lesson. Ten seconds, twenty, thirtyand sure enough right on cue he began to speak. "You know, you kept the notes for an entire year and you didn't even put the specific dates on, just the months. A journal should reflect the exact time of your life when you write things down." It warmed my heart that I knew him so well, and I found I couldn't make fun of him, so I just smiled and patted his hand and replied "Yes, love of my life, yes. Pass me the pen." So here I am, pen in hand, ready to rectify the situation. Today is October 13, 2032, and it's Fox's 71st birthday. We've been together almost 27 years, ever since that night in the coffee shop. We both continued to work after we became a couple all those years ago, but soon discovered that neither one of us had ever had a real, bona-fide vacation, since college. We decided that was pretty sad, and took off for two weeks of skiing. We were having a great time and hated to see it end, but we both had to get back to work. Over the next few years we planned more vacations to destinations near and far, cold and warm, determined to finally catch up on the fun times we felt we had each been cheated out of during the course of our lives. Each excursion lasted longer and longer, and each return back to work became more difficult. On our last "official" vacation, Fox and I were sitting on the beach, enjoying the spectacular sunset that the tropical island provided. It was our last evening there, and I complained that I didn't want to go back to work, that I just wanted to stay there on the beach with him for as long as I wanted. So Fox asked "Why not?". He pulled out his phone and canceled our reservations for the trip home that was scheduled for the next morning. I just stared at him, and he began to expound on the many reasons that we, of all people, deserved to live our lives the way that we wanted to. He said that we had devoted a decade-and-a-half to fighting the future and saving the world, which had amounted to almost all of his adult life, and all of mine. He said that we had paid our debt to society a million times over and now it was our turn to do as we damn well pleased. It was time for us to live for today and not tomorrow. Sure, we each had important jobs, but they were jobs that others could fill. Money wasn't a problem for either of us, so I couldn't find any fault with his argument. And that was the birthplace of our new lifestyle. We spent years traveling the globe, seeking out both popular and remote destinations. Eventually we decided that it would be nice to get to know our own hemisphere better and decided on a cross-continental tour that would have no destination and no time limit. We took a few road trips in our car and stayed in hotel after hotel. Then one day Fox came back to our latest hotel with a surprise. He had rented a motor home for a month to see if we took to it, and we did. So here we are, four motor homes and many years later, still eating up the miles.
Sometimes during those first early years of traveling, I would wonder aloud whether or not we were wasting our lives this way. I'd feel guilty that we weren't contributing to society or making a difference in any significant way. Fox would just laugh every time I'd say that, and he'd have to remind me once again that the very fact that human beings still existed on the planet was directly related to our efforts and was reason enough for us not to feel guilty. I knew he was right every time he said it. So through all the happiness and sorrow, I guess I'd do it all again. Live for today and not tomorrow. It's still the road that never ends. Fox and I both come from long-lived stock; most of our aunts, uncles and cousins are still living in their late nineties. So if we're lucky and the odds are with us, then we've got another 25 or so years together on our road to nowhere.
END
"The Road to Nowhere", by Ozzy Osbourne
I was looking back on my life
And all the things I've done to me
I'm still looking for the answers
I'm still searching for the key
Chorus
The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me
It just won't leave me alone
I still find it all a mystery
Could it be a dream?
The road to nowhere leads to me
Through all the happiness and sorrow
I guess I'd do it all again
Live for today and not tomorrow
It's still the road that never ends
Ah ah
The road to nowhere's gonna pass me by
Ah ah
I hope we never have to say goodbye
I never want to live without you
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
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