Two inches down, Amber in the rearview, Let the night breathe. The clock on the dash turns two-fifteen, Sliding through the quietest streets I've seen, A gentle hum vibrating through the floor, Left my heavy thoughts outside the car door. Cold air creeping across the seat, Tracing the lines where the shadows meet. No phone lights buzzing in the cup tray, Washing the dust of the sun away, Distant blue towers start to blur and fade, Into the velvet sanctuary I made. Window cracked down two inches wide, Watching the amber highway slide, Cold night breeze resting on my skin, Letting the gentle quiet in, No destination on the glass, Just letting every heavy second pass. Yellow streetlights pacing side by side, A steady rhythm for the midnight ride, My fingertips relaxed against the wheel, Forgetting how the rush was supposed to feel. The rearview holds a silhouette of gray, Everything shrinking miles away. Window cracked down against the chill, The whole wide world is standing still, Bassline breathing low and warm, A secret haven from the storm, Counting the dashed lines floating by, Beneath the calm and indigo sky. No calls to return, No fires left to burn, Just sixty miles an hour, And nowhere left to run. Window cracked open to the night, Bathed in the soft dashboard light, Exhaling every breath I kept inside, Taking the long and peaceful ride, The city sleeps, the highway clears, Finally quiet after all these years. Two-forty-five AM, Still rolling, Peace in the quiet lane. Mmm...
