Satellite

The car outside with its top down
Burns a hole inside, leaving its lights on
In the back seat, he leans to kiss her
She shifts her head a bit and her mind in neutral
And the satellites try to find her
And the astronauts are none the wiser
And the jaws of life cannot find her
And the periscope is none the wiser
And a week goes by, again another
You forget the scent of mats and vinyl
And the passenger side is so unimpressed with
The steering wheel and its driver
When you crash and burn
You will find her
In the blackout
Where none’s the wiser
When you crash and burn
When you crash and burn
When you crash and burn
You will find her