American Highway - Ezra Furman, The Harpoons

She is pressing foot to pedal

She is zooming straight away

She is swimming in the jukebox

Of the screaming, driving day

She’s about the age of Mary

When she had her wonderboy

She’s an alcohol enthusiast

Whose dad is unemployed

She is wrapped around the steering wheel

She is focused on her goal

She is pulling out the vomit

From the bottom of my soul

I can’t tell if I see sunshine

Or only the city’s glow

I catch the wind in jelly jars

To listen to it blow

I’m so cautious I get nauseous

As my highway stretches out

My little pupils dilate

In the shadow of a doubt

I see billboards, I see wagons

And I see she’s gone to sleep

The gap to faith is tiny

But I can’t begin to leap

We are sick and we are injured

Terrible and torn in half

We are driving, we are trading in

A whimper for a laugh

We are tuneless, we are toneless

Our speedometer sings

We are stained, we are Starbucks coffe

We are jacks and queens and kings

We have but one navigator

And a single one to drive

We are tending to pretend

We’re at the endings of our lives