MUXIBOSH - Overdrive

No matter where we are.
Midnight on the freeway, engines singing low,
Streetlights drawing golden lines across the roads below.
Every passing moment feels suspended in the haze,
Like a photograph surviving through a thousand different days.
The moon reflects on windows like a signal from afar,
Guiding all the restless souls who wonder where they are.
And I hear your voice repeating through the rhythm of the rain,
Like a distant station calling to the static once again.