Track Insight / Lyrics
I drove past the bakery where the croissants smelled of sunrise,
A kid at a corner, one‑metre map in hand, pushed a stroller that sang a lullaby,
I keep a ledger in my mind tallying
the red sedan with a white checkered shirt
Every neon flicker is a verse I hum as the city breathes around me.
[Pre‑
City lights blur into a wet glass pane, and my hands feel the ink of the meter,
I see the drummer behind the wheel of a broken Ford, counting beats on the rearview,
A saxophone mutters through a traffic jam, words like gravel on my tongue,
I'm riding to the rhythm of your trip, and it's louder than bell towers.
From the Valley of the Monorail to the porch
of a coffee shop I keep the route alive
I remember your coffee cup the splatter of cream
on the yellow ticket the sigh of your breath
I don't forget the street where the
sign flickers OPEN in an odd neon script
I drive, press the pedal as if it were a hymn, and you are the hopeful choir.
I've got chapters written on the back seat, each one a quiet bedtime song,
The subway hum hums in the depth of the turnstiles, a low chord under my breath,
My GPS strobe flashes the same rhythm that comforts a lonely train,
I trace your name on the meter glass, a fingerprint of a single breath.
And the streets keep pulsing like a drum in our car, and you're the passenger singing,
I lock your laughter down in a pocket in
the crease of my trousers near the spare key
I leave an oil halo, and you leave a flour halo on the window,
Together we travel the documented life that stays right in the rearview.
