Read the palm of my hand,
Analyse the lines and see that it maps a highway with no destination
You became a long highway with high speeds and good music but as the driver, I knew it were to go nowhere
But as the passenger, you anticipated us to go everywhere  

And for that I’m sorry
You became a best friend that I resented
And I became the best friend that you had to learn to resent

Long car talks became our lingo and daily messages was our travel snack that we would crunch like a pass time
But as you found another, our cars collided
Inertia was met by fastening seatbelts and an accident we both denied had occurred  
And it's not that I’m jealous or realised I love you

But I am now met with suburbia,
With corners and cafe small talk,
Stop signs and round a bouts,

And I am to know that I can no longer rely on you like a country road but instead give way to another
I wish all the best for you
I know you once looked at my hands as a destination for yours
And honestly, sometimes I wish it were
But instead, they are creased maps leading to the nowhere for you
And everywhere for someone else

Although, I really hope you enjoyed the trip home