The curves of her mouth match the curves in the road
and I can't see in front of me, head first into unknown.
The headlights flashing are warning me ahead
"Honey,  you better steer to the left or else we'll be dead."

Drowning in the lake with the ghosts of yesterday
who've died the same death and were left here to stay.
Turn the radio up and roll the windows down,
the wind sweeps across your face and gives you a crown.

I'm the King of the road with my Queen by my side
we'll take this whole death thing with grateful stride