We spoke of when there was no moon to weigh us down,
And the sea was calm and the days were short,
And there was strawberry pie eaten with plastic forks.
And a sky of endless birds flew to a warmer oblivion.
I told you I would drive and you said it would be ok,
And the California highway was something I needed before the storm.
The hungry engine ate our words and every mile was a minute,
And you we were there and the planet was spinning away from the west.