segunda-feira, 24 de novembro de 2008

I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you're driving me home.

Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you're driving me home.

"Do they collide?'
I ask and you smile
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter

When you feel embarrassed, then I'll be your pride.
When you need directions, then I'll be the guide.
For all time.
For all time.

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