Falling Elevators

It's three a.m. I reach over and turn on the radio It coughs up noise that reminds me of a soundtrack To a bad dream The rain is hitting my windshield so hard I can barely hear the tinny, garbled voices The cars outside rush by like falling elevators My headlights catch fleeting images of ghostly faces Pressed up against glass in silent desperation I'm lost in the middle of nowhere But I keep my eyes on the road And I don't look back