I know that my life is good.
I live in a great neighborhood.
I go to work and go to school,
And on occasion do something cool.
I like my life, I think it's great,
And never could I say I hate,
This place called Provo, where I abide
(please, don't think that it's implied)
But recently, my only thought
Is "get me out of this distraught"
And take me to a place that's nice,
With fewer people to be precise.
I'm sick of clouds and sick of snow
I mean really guys, can't you just GO?
Who cares about finals? Do they have a purpose?
Personally I think that they are rather humorous.
So I'm heading South, forever and ever.
To always be known as "the mysterious hiker"
I'll live off the land and have all my own space
Good luck finding me, I won't leave a trace.
Where I go the sun will always shine
I'll live outside and be totally fine.
So say your goodbyes, and pretend that you'll miss me.
Cause here I go, about to make history...