| Caught my head on the handlebar
|
| You kept the car running
|
| And the metal flesh of this monument
|
| Is leaking out gasoline
|
| Watched from across the parking lot
|
| As you flipped through some magazines
|
| And I tried to ignore the concrete
|
| As it trapped me down underneath
|
| Every glance is a glimpse of light
|
| And I don’t know what you could’ve seen
|
| But my meter is three pairs of your shoes
|
| So you’ll always be close to me
|
| When you turned back to check on me
|
| My headlights found the way
|
| From the hopes in my head to the pores on your skin
|
| And wiped all the dirt away
|
| For a second I felt your youth
|
| Spill into me like heat
|
| And the pain on my skin turned adrenaline
|
| Watched your childhood without me
|
| And the neon and LEDs
|
| Of your storefront suburban streets
|
| Flashed a warning sign from the whites of your eyes
|
| Like they did when you were 16
|
| Floating through the convenience store
|
| Buying beer in your sneakers and jeans
|
| And I can’t help but watch while your face turns bright red
|
| As the cashier spots your school ID
|
| And there’s nothing that I can touch
|
| It’s a feeling that I can’t stand
|
| Getting only as close to your lips as the cigarette
|
| Stuck in your trembling hands
|
| Da da da da da, da da da da da, da da da da |