Из альбома: The Pilosophy of Time Travel
It's cold so roll the windows
and let's get out of here
Just drive faster.
All the lonely hills
are singing midnights songs
All those times thie highways melted,
left to wake in city skylines
while we wake at 12:34
I'm dreaming of somewhere else,
anywhere but here
all the lines blur together,
the universe is slipping sideways.