I can hear the rain pouring outside my door,
There's an old man on the corner trying to stay warm,
The windshields blurred, but I can still see the same.
I wear my gloves tight with my hands on the wheel,
Turn the signal to the right down the street where I used to feel,
I have no passenger, but if I did, I'd still be alone.
I drive downtown through the concrete hills, see the smoke stacks below me.
Pass the old footsteps that I walked in the more happy days...
Cross the paths of the streets I knew...
Twenty fives miles per hour, makes it all blur from here,
Take a glance in my rear view mirror and your not there.