You stopped calling so I drove my car

down the highway in the dark.

I ran out of pills in the glove box,

so I dialed your number, but you couldn’t talk.

I found your cigarettes in the backseat,

I smoked all of them and hoped you dream of me.

You played the game right, hiding your cards,

mine were a palace collapsing when things got hard.

Now I sit in the ruins of my red and white empire,

staring up at bright red stoplights on fire.

I’m smoking with all of the windows rolled up,

If the seats catch fire, will it finally be enough?

A slice so deep in the flesh like a crack,

cracks in the windshield, words I can’t take back.

Does your car flood when my engine goes up in flames?

Do you close your eyes on the highway to relive our games?

When you drown, my skin burns all over again,

all my fingers are burning on the steering wheel again.

The light turns green and my engine goes cold.

Tell me, when do all of our games finally grow old?

All the cigarettes I found have all been smoked,

thick gray smoke in the streetlights’ glow.

I am going nowhere but to a flash of red,

and it’s burning brightly for the miles ahead.