Drive Me Home.

You asked me once, too late
at night - too alive with the
same kind of hope in your eyes.

Our whispers shiver in white
clouds, cruel winter to face our
doubts - and we speak out.

My dreams smell like rain,
sound like piano keys, and
taste like coffee.

Your dreams smell like sunlight,
sound like gentle laughter, and
taste like honey.

It's been too long, I've been
missing who we were before, you take
your keys and hold out your hand.

Let's go home, this city's sky is
nothing like ours, makes it impossible
to see the stars.

Drive slowly, this city's darkness wants
to hold onto young skin and heavy hearts,
hungry for always and a fresh start.

The road holds a kinder spirit, an electric
feeling to let us fall into our unguarded
dreams, safe with a touch of our hands.

They try to sell us a miracle, but being
here drowns out all their empty promises,
shoulder to shoulder, same place and same sky.

I have home on my skin, at the edge of my
lips, in the palm of my hand, and I hold
on tight - it has always been enough.

You asked me once, too late
at night - too alive with the
same kind of hope in your eyes.