Driving down a seemingly clear road
Going ninety five with stripes torpedoing under
Clouds blurring like green and brown gasses
Tree’s, faces in a large cheering crowd
Cold air was colliding with the windshields
Causing deep thunderous crackling rumbles
Tires were weightless on the silver Accord
I couldn’t feel the feathered grey pavement beneath
As stars whipped across the empty black sky
We snaked left and right on the belt
Hyper white lights cut through the street
Caged flashlights looking out for signs
The leather steering wheel glued to Marco’s hands
Not blinking when that little orange Supra whizzed by
Just kept the premium gas flowing

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