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Driven up and down in circles |
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Skidding down a road of black ice |
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Staring in and out storm windows |
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Driven to a fool's paradise |
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It's my turn to drive |
|
But it's my turn to drive |
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Driven to the margin of error |
|
Driven to the edge of control |
|
Driven to the margin of terror |
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Driven to the edge of a deep, dark hole |
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Driven day and night in circles |
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Spinning like a whirlwind of leaves |
|
Stealing in and out back alleys |
|
Driven to another den of thieves |
|
It's my turn to drive |
|
But it's my turn to drive |
|
Driven to the margin of error |
|
Driven to the edge of control |
|
Driven to the margin of terror |
|
Driven to the edge of a deep, dark hole |
|
Driven in, driven to the edge |
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Driven out on the thin end of the wedge |
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Driven off by things I've never seen |
|
Driven on by the road to somewhere I've never been |
|
Driven on, driven in on the thin end of the wedge |
|
Driven out, driven to the edge |
|
It's my turn to drive |
|
But it's my turn to drive |
|
The road unwinds towards me |
|
What was there is gone |
|
The road unwinds before me |
|
And I go riding on |
|
It's my turn to drive |
|
But it's my turn to drive |
|
Driven to the margin of error |
|
Driven to the edge of control |
|
Driven to the margin of terror |
|
Driven to the edge of a deep, dark hole |
|
Driven to the edge of a deep, dark hole |
