on a high in silverlake
try to fit in but feel like a fake
modern hotel room and free champagne
after days on end in the left lane
when it all came swirling down
in a motel with nothing around
should we call it off and start the long way home?
fifteen different states and different microphones
as the states began to shut down
we headed east through abandoned towns
gas station doors and bathroom stalls
making noise and making phone calls
i'll just sit in the back bench
i'll shut my eyes and pretend to rest
what if i'm a vessel for this great unknown?
fifteen different states and different microphones
when i come home, my room will be the same
but so much about me has already changed
i will bring home the farms and desert sands
and i'll bring a new fear of my own hands