Midnight Traffic - Dangers

A grinding halt on the North 405.

Just trying to escape, that’s when I hear you sigh: «I hate this fucking town.

I hope I never come back.»

You roll your window up.

And it’s so plain to see, like we’re staring into the bright side of this moon.

And we’re just running away in the dead of the night.

But we’re stuck in reverse in a sea of crimson lights.

We sit in silence.

You turn the volume up.

I check the rearview and see the fire trucks.

We don’t say nothin', but that says everything.

And we ain’t moving… Somehow the miles, they grow between.

Like the distance, the years, and all the places that we’ve been… The basements,

the graves, it’s an endless pile-up of love, of hate, of midnight traffic in

my guts.

And it’s so obvious to me the things I once could not see.

We’re just running away in the dead of the night.

But we’re stuck in reverse amidst emergency lights.

The lights are flashing, the siren sounds, and through the jaws of life the

blood spreads thick on the ground.

But we ain’t stopping.

And we ain’t turning around.

I’ve got my foot to the floor, head first straight into midnight traffic.

No, we ain’t turning around.

We ain’t stopping, no, and we ain’t turning around.