Little Hands of Asphalt
 
 Highway's Pull
 
 So I’m off again.
 I’m taking just one of my favourite friends. The tank is full. 
 And we’ll be giving in to the highway’s pull.
 
 (Oooh, oooh.)
 
 I’ll try to think things through, 
 but I’ll be thinking way too much of you. 
 How you stick to plan 
 though at times it’s best to just play the hand
 
 But I’m talking about cards 
 while the past comes in on broken wings 
 to crash in your backyard. 
 And I’m picking every syllable apart 
 in those breathless conversations 
 that I’ve memorized by heart.
 
 (Oooh, oooh.)
 
 The engine screams. 
 I’m drifting in and out of dreams. Soon I’ll be consumed 
 and you’ll be back at the top of my room.
 
 (Oooh, oooh.)
 
 The road is stained. But any day 
 now, the quiet rain will clean our path. 
 And leave your name 
 in solvable math.
 
 But patience never was my trade. 
 And the broken back of honesty is thoroughly clichéd. 
 When doubt has built a nest inside your head 
 all the restlessness that sleeps between us will break the bed. 
 But make no mistake… 
 It’s hard to think that common sense 
 won’t pick a fight with consequence. 
 When fall soon breaks, know that I won’t be around no more 
 when you find what you’re not looking for in me 
 
 (Oooh.)