Driving on the coast, midnight under the moon.
Flying like thieves, leaving all that they brought.
We’re on our way now and we won’t get caught.

Crawling up the road, sunrise under the moon.
Floating like leaves falling for the first time.
Fall and rise, left and right, and we’re always fine.

Early morning, the sun was stretching blues.
Buzzing like bees seeking some lunchtime shade,
Knowing it’ll all cool down one of these days.

Walking with the sand, tomorrow comes too soon.
Sinking like hands that never cared about time,
I’m at that point in life where it all starts to rhyme.

I stood inside and wrote about a radio.
I sat outside around this time a little over a year ago.
Nobody talking to me, but me.
But I knew I’d be alright.

I sat outside and wrote about an old road.
I stood inside around this time a little over a year ago.
Nobody singing to me, but me.
But I knew I’d be alright.

I never felt home at home.
I only fall sleep alone.
Wrote about a radio.
I wrote about an old road.

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