Highway song part II

I’ve been doing things like drinking
to try and bring my spirits down.
And I’m gonna start with things like smoking,
until my body hits the ground.

In an aeroplane,
there’s more room up than there is below.
On the highway,
it’s tiresome to drive too slow.

I’ve given speed a lot of thinking.
That drug deserves its own fair shot
at ruining my outside appearance.
And I’d like to see my sad soul rot

Up on the aeroplane,
there are parachutes to help me jump off.
Back on the highway,
seatbelts and door locks bound me in.

Everyone seems to die in burnouts:
plane crashes were so yesterday.
Wonder when my tires will stop spinning?
In the silence of screaming what will I say?

I'm in an aeroplane.
No I'm not: that metaphor is dead.
I'm on the highway,
racing toward an eminent death.