It's just one of those nights,
where all the back roads look the same.
Melodies singing in the mist of the horizon.
The sun kissing our skin like the first
time we rolled under the covers.
Circling the woods past the old
carved tree, wandering the broken roads.
I can't help but wonder where our thoughts went.
Hands tangled, rain shooting on the windshield.
Foolish moves behind the wheel.
Trees come out of nowhere.
Engraved in our shadows,
our initials lie next to our motionless figures.
Since when did the day become night?
All so silent and bare.
Once we seemed so perfect, as if floating on air.
Teenage sounds haunt our wildest dreams.
But, I suppose it's easy enough to read,
even the sun sets in paradise.
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