Short-lived conversations
Lost in translation
Through the white noise
Of these moving cars
The sky seems so empty
Like a glass half full
The crisp dusk air makes us shiver
The three of us, we waver
Through these winding highways
Caught up in amber streetlights
Road signs and empty fields
We pass them by
So hurriedly
I can see the edge of the world
From this dirty car window
Those talented angels
Must have painted the clouds
Reminiscent of last summer
When the power went out
We had to sit in the overgrown grass
With the wind like strong hands
Pushing us where to go
Everything is a silhouette now
A fragile outline of but a thousand beings
Things we just wish we could be
Wish we could be