Helmet Off Overlook

Selling cold bottles

on the hot concrete

Chasing taillights down

the exhaust-filled street

Now we're crashing on a bed

we shouldn't own

Dirty sneakers on the white sheets,

far from home (we

run, we run)

Under the overlook, the helmet's off

The engine cools down with a heavy cough

We parked right where they told us not to go

And watched the quiet city burn below (yeah!)

Only this night has this smell of gasoline

The quietest dark that I

have ever seen

No sirens tracing where the tires spun

We caught the shadows and we finally won (go!)