At junction 8 the traffic starts to slow Artilleries of braking lights and bluish glow Ascending in a plumage of twisted steel Shattered glass and confetti dashed upon the wheel When a car crash gets you off you've lost your grip When a fuck is not enough you know you've slipped When the church is full it means you've just been had When the world has gone to seed you're so detached Got a feeling that I want you to be there Driving by on my way to somewhere else I fill my lungs with a noxious burning smell There is weed and grey concrete like this for miles Dead souls in my rear view mirror hitch a ride for a while I want to be loved
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