Your engine threatens, I can hear it from the garden. I can see it coming, I can see it come from miles. What you're thinking right now, 'cause I think that I can guess.
I feel your head exploding. And now I hear you mourning. For a world of never knowing. To nights of stepping out of line. With the wild kind. . I see your body glowing.
This tapedeck you brought is physically smoldering. A road catalog of history frozen. These voices you call a bitter sweet morning. It must mean so much, this forgotten touch.