The Motorist - Nation of Language

I lock the door, adjust my seat

And think on distant friends

When they were mine and I was theirs

All lying end to end

But if I try to fall asleep

Could I even pretend?

‘Cause in my eyes there’s nothing else

But this space

And that’s it

They walk

Concrete

Manic in the way

They walk

Beside me

I’ll never get an answer now

Turn the pages

Try to find another way

The sun is low, I watch them move

Drifting scene to scene

The basic plot is lost on me

But all the shots are clean

And it’s my intention to find redemption

But elusive it proves to be

So my love, keep me close tonight

They walk

Concrete

Manic in the way

They walk

Beside me

I’ll never get an answer now

Turn the pages

Try to find another way