You pick me up and take me home again
Head out the window again
We're hollow like the bottles that we drain
You drape your wrists over the steering wheel
Pulses can drive from here
We might be hollow, but we're brave.
I love these roads where the houses don't change,where we can talk like there's something to say,I'm glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway,we move in the tree streets, I'd like it if you stayed.— 400 Lux, Lorde
I roll the window downAnd then begin to breathe inThe darkest country roadAnd the strong scent of evergreenFrom the passenger seat as you are driving me home.— Passenger Seat, Death Cab for Cutie