Mid-tempo indie pop... in 3/4 no less.
Driving around god-knows-where with a girl and her friends. Hilarity ensues. Trust me. Just wait for it.
Riding next to your friends,
You're driving at a torrid speed with no destination.
The headrest separates your head from mine,
sillouhette framed in bisecting planes of ribboned light
From the dash and your CD player.
I wish that I could be a CD in it forever.
And as I'm spinning we can just just talk about us,
I'll move your friends out of the car with telekinesis.
As the car stops I look skyward,
the stars are out and need to be observed.
We all look up as the car blackens,
Maybe once I'm a CD we can talk more often.