We slowly drove from happiness to guilt,
enjoyed the casual stops along the way
to see some monument that someone built,
or watch the purple sunset turn to gray.
The road was so much quieter at night;
the wheels were so much softer in the dark.
You tried to read the map without a light
and analyzed my every last remark.
The songs began to crackle and to fade
as farther from their signals we’d proceed.
Their tunes began to slowly be afraid
of interfering with some silent need.
And silence was the humming, static hiss
that never thought its songs would come to this.