| We look parked but we were going on
|
| To someplace we’ll never reach alone
|
| But we’ve never even left here
|
| Dropped our future to outrun fear
|
| Drinking from miniatures, we’re sky high
|
| We shoulda gone for any other life
|
| Instead, we go on forever
|
| Burning our backs on hot leather
|
| And now Sunday to Sunday, we rest
|
| Sunday to Sunday, we rest
|
| Sunday to Sunday, we rest
|
| We never waste time, but we don’t spend it either
|
| We’re both just backseat drivers
|
| Backseat driving
|
| And we’re going nowhere
|
| Oh, we’re going nowhere
|
| We’re both just backseat drivers
|
| Backseat driving
|
| And we’re going nowhere
|
| Oh, we’re going nowhere
|
| We don’t move and we don’t indicate
|
| I guess we’re waiting to be found by fate
|
| But maybe she’ll only reach us
|
| Once the time’s blurred our features
|
| We can’t deal with all the choice outside
|
| So we lay under the hood and hide
|
| Then we steam up our windows
|
| Let the boredom get our lymph nodes
|
| And now Sunday to Sunday, we rest
|
| Sunday to Sunday, we rest
|
| Sunday to Sunday, we rest
|
| We never waste time, but we don’t spend it either
|
| We’re both just backseat drivers
|
| Backseat driving
|
| And we’re going nowhere
|
| Oh, we’re going nowhere
|
| We’re both just backseat drivers
|
| Backseat driving
|
| And we’re going nowhere
|
| Oh, we’re going nowhere
|
| It’s such a slow way to die
|
| Time moves and we never do
|
| Don’t even learn to drive
|
| When I lose control and my license follow me
|
| We’re both just backseat drivers
|
| Backseat driving
|
| And we’re going nowhere
|
| Oh, we’re going nowhere |