No one is neon but light is ours
Driving out west to Kalamazoo
My clammy arms are wrapped around you
The gearshift is vile, it's got itself stuck and
We swerving behind a dirty semi-truck
And fourteen thousand foreign God-blessed cars
Under the bridges no one snores
I-69 is a calmly undertone
Frightening and chilling right down to our bones
Hiding in Lansing, the green is left undone
Bored down to brown as we drive off from the Thumb
Sweetness snows in our pores
Grainy unconscious tempers
Kissing my northern betters
Drive on a Dearborn waste line
Hands stay unruly with their engraved design
Back one the railway no one rides
Rusty the iron, splintered is the wood
Ties in our eyes and spikes deep in our blood
Neck-broken bottles by cast-iron steam pumps
Loitering nightly inside of our car trunks—
The wind embraced our hides
Dead on the highway, we're reborn
Piled in the fast lane, the cars left us alone
Graces embalming with us in a orange glow
No one is dead, but our bodies are sheltered
Opened in treason, I promised to help her
Her head was rounded, pounding, shaken
Mine is tilting, god-forsaken
Pulling off to the side of the road
Grainy unconscious tempers
Kissing my northern betters
Drive on a Dearborn waste line
Hands stay unruly with their engraved design
