**** Listen to the full Backroad Mix-O-Rama here: **** https://suno.com/playlist/21d62751-ce45-4cac-9e8e-766af0b4a800 So… welcome to my emotional TED talk. Don’t worry. It’s short. Like my attention span. I take that backroad a lot. Not for peace of mind… just because it’s the only place that doesn’t ask questions. The wind sometimes gives advice. Mostly stuff like, “Wow, still here?” Which is fair. I’d judge me too. The backroad and I have an understanding: I complain, it ignores me. Honestly the healthiest relationship I’ve got. I told the horizon I might not make it home. The horizon said nothing. Bold move. Bury me on a backrooooad, somewhere absolutely forgettable. If I fade in all my gooooold, well… great for the gold, I guess. No flowers, no parade, just a field that needed shade. Bury me on a backroad, low effort. Low cost. On brand. People ask if I’m okay. I say, “Define okay.” They never do. Then they leave. Solid teamwork. Once I told someone, “If I disappear, bury me out there.” He said, “Fine.” No hesitation. This man would help hide a body for anybody. A real community hero. I yelled at the woods once. The woods didn’t yell back. Respect. Sometimes I think destiny is calling me. But it’s just another email titled “Last chance.” They’ve been saying that for years. Bury me on a backrooooad, far away from better decisions. If the wind forgets my name tonight, honestly that tracks. No plaque, no stone, I don’t need to be well-known. Just bury me on a backroad— somewhere equally alone. I told a pothole my secrets. It didn’t flinch. Elite listener. Thought about hugging the backroad… but dust makes me itchy and I don’t need another rash explaining itself. Bury me on a backrooooad, somewhere out of range. If I go wrapped in all my issues, well… add it to the exchange. No reason to explain, the dirt can keep my name. Just bury me on a backroad, and call it… “handled.” Anyway… thanks for pretending to listen. Drive safe. Or don’t. Your call.
