At junction 8 traffic starts to slow
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Artilleries of braking lights and bluish glow
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Ascending in a plumage of twisted steel
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Shattered glass and confetti dashed upon the wheel
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When a car crash gets you off you've lost your grip
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When a fuck is not enough you know you've slipped
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When the church is full it means you've just been had
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When the world has gone to seed you're so detached
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Got a feeling that I want you to be there
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Driving by on my way to somewhere else
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I fill my lungs with a noxious burning smell
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There is weed and grey concrete like this for miles
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Dead souls in my rear view mirror hitch a ride a while
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I want to be loved
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-----------------
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The Incident
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| Porcupine Tree |
