| The raindrops on the roof of the car
|
| Sound like a warning
|
| I’m alone in the backseat
|
| And in the clouded sky a pondering star
|
| Waits for morning
|
| To go back to sleep
|
| There’s a great big world out there
|
| Of good and bad and everything in between
|
| I’ve got my own small world in here
|
| Of happy and sad and the little I have seen
|
| Keep driving, keep driving
|
| The silent lamppost bows down its head
|
| Encircled by darkness
|
| With time on its side
|
| And when everyone I know are in bed
|
| My light shines the sharpest
|
| Across the divide
|
| There’s a deep blue sea out there
|
| Of birth and death and the lovely mess in between
|
| I’ve got my own short life in here
|
| Going to God-knows-where in this fast machine
|
| Keep driving, keep driving
|
| Through the city, past the billboards
|
| Selling hope to hopeless souls
|
| To the outskirts where every locked door
|
| Has seen things that no-one knows
|
| Past the beaches where the wind blows
|
| And the waves caress the shore
|
| Through the forest where a tree grows
|
| For two hundred years or more
|
| The raindrops on the roof of the car
|
| Sound like a warning
|
| I’m alone in the backseat
|
| And in the clouded sky a lonesome star
|
| Waits for morning
|
| To go back to sleep |