|
Try and try, leave a trace |
|
And all we ever leave is a sour taste |
|
You're half asleep when |
|
I crash through |
|
I'm like a drop of water on the dry sand |
|
I'm a scar across your face |
|
I'm an itch that's driving you mad |
|
Highway five |
|
Takes so much to make us feel like we're alive |
|
A weary traveler at a smooth seventy-five |
|
Make pretend the landscape ain't so dry |
|
Do anything to maintain a lie |
|
To the left, a beautiful |
|
California landscape |
|
Dead ends in the sky |
|
And to the right, beautiful mountains rise |
|
High and dry |
|
Another futile expression of bitterness |
|
Another overwhelming sensation of uselessness |
|
Make pretend that the landscape ain't so dry |
|
Do anything to maintain a lie |
|
Make pretend that the lover ain't so barren |
|
Though in |
|
Los Angeles things like that don't matter |
|
Highway five |
