Broken Dreams in My Back Seat

Found a box in the back seat. All the plans we swore we'd

keep. Ticket stubs and half torn polaroids. Every promise with a crease.

You said next year we'll move out. Folding maps marked in red.

Now the cities that we circle live on paper, not our heads.

Broken dreams in my back seat. Rolling round every time I hit the brakes.

Every turn, they slide and crash into me. Cutting through like the words we

never say. Broken dreams in my back seat. But I still drive like I

can get them back some day. Your coat still hangs