Backseat Warriors

Speeding and down the streets
I could never understand the passion, satisfaction
37 little trees
Smelling like old ladies, I get nauseous as you pass us
I don’t think they have regrets
I don’t know for sure but I still think they want more
I don’t turn the lights on anymore
Slippers on and cigarettes in both of your hands
You think you’re flying, at least you’re trying
Little trees of coral reef
In the backseat bottles of green water for your warriors
I don’t think they have regrets
I don’t know for sure but I still think they want more
I don’t turn the lights on anymore