Turn on the brights. See deer scatter in the night. See this steering wheel turn right where it knows I belong: this ditch just south of Charleston. I'm calling out when we're apart. With zero bars, it's all for naught. Your sound could take me home.
I just need to hear your voice.
Turn off the lights. I feel the sun starting to rise. I feel this burning hole inside, fraught from miles shelled out. I've brought this on myself and now... I'm calling out when we're apart. With zero bars, it's all for naught. Your sound could take me home
I just need to hear your voice.
The South Carolina cellphone tower gods are frowning on me. I doubt I'll carry on for long if your voice hasn't found me. Your sound could take me home.