In the fall I'm on the road a lot (or on a train) for my work. There's not much you can do after the second hour in the car: you know, pick your nose, eat a bagel from Dunkin' Donuts, or listen to great music. I do all three. (Don't chide me! I just asked Matt, "Do you think everyone picks their nose?" and he responded, "Of course. I'm sure Jesus did." I'm not religious but I can't argue with that logic so I'm keeping the nose pickin' part in, and if you're recoiling, then sweet thing, you're just not being honest with yourself.)
So I'm loading up my mp3 player (note I did not say iPod as I heave whenever I see those self-righteous, sanctimonious Apple ads). There are two types of perfect trip ditties: sad songs and power ballads. Sad songs so you can do the whole faux introspection thing while taking a late-night Amtrak train, and power ballads so you can pass the line of tracker trailers on the turnpike. The below song is the latter. If you like Kate Bush and Tori Amos then maybe you'll like Florence, too.
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