Static on the radio, finding a clear line
Map on a cracked phone screen, says we're doing fine
The city's in the rearview, a smudge of concrete grey
Bought a soda at the station, let the sugar lead the way
Oh, that feeling, hitting ninety on the asphalt sea
Yeah, that freedom, it's the only currency
Leave the ghosts of yesterday in the exhaust fume haze
We're caught up in the promise of these sun-drenched days
Toll booth ticket on the dashboard, fluttering in the breeze
Trading silent cubicles for the whisper of the trees
Don't know where we're heading, don't really have a plan
Just a pocket full of nothing and a half-faded tan
Oh, that feeling, hitting ninety on the asphalt sea
Yeah, that freedom, it's the only currency
Leave the ghosts of yesterday in the exhaust fume haze
We're caught up in the promise of these sun-drenched days
One shared look is all it takes
No questions, no mistakes
Just the engine and the beat
On this shimmering ribbon of heat
Oh, that feeling, hitting ninety on the asphalt sea
Yeah, that freedom, it's the only currency
Leave the ghosts of yesterday in the exhaust fume haze
We're caught up in the promise of these sun-drenched days
Sun-drenched days...