Nation Of Language - The Motorist

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 my 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