Missing Pieces

If there's a way for us to disappear,

I'd sign the dotted lines and make sure I wrote clear.

Temptation never seemed to get us far,

But we seem to be getting somewhere confined in this old car.

Limitations come to us in forms of blinking red lights,

Warning us to get gas before we run out of stop signs.

The passing white lines begin to hypnotize,

And home is the only thought that I can grasp in my mind.

Surrounded by company I'll never know

That there is a part of me that I have left back at home.

I'm on my way back and things are looking up.

We turn the dial to drown the sound of all these big trucks.

Scenery becomes familiar now,

So I expose my senses and start to roll the window down.

Spread my hand to feel the passing wind,

And pointed fingers lift as if the sun were calling them.

I can't help but to smile at this time,

Knowing I can see you whenever I close my eyes.