Hurtling down the highway in a delicate silence

I talk about the weather, but you’re comfortable in the quiet

If you loved me, it’d be softly like the way you are when driving

Like the way we’d walk a cul-de-sac and lap around the block and back

It’d feel like coming home

Gunning yellow lights

It’d feel like coming home

Counting starry nights

Westbound down the highway as the same car passes three times

I’m not good at filling silence but I look at you with side eyes

The best way to make me love you is to tell me you don’t love me

The same car passes one more time but I’m still looking at our highway line

It’d feel like coming home

Gunning yellow lights

It’d feel like coming home

Counting starry nights