Traffic Lights Turning Yellow:

A Kiss And A Slap On The Roof.

I Taught You That Superstition

Driving Downtown

With The Windows Down.



Late At Night, Talking Over

A Broken Radio.

And I Kiss My Fingers,

And Our Single Headlight

Winks Out For The Last Time.

We Talk About

The Last Time It Felt Right To Make Out.



And I'm Certain, If I Drive Into Those Tress,

It'd Make Less Of A Mess

Than You've Made Of Me.