Woman driving, man sleeping.
Wear the suitcase on the rack.
White lines shooting by,
on the pavement like the sky.
Looking straight ahead, into the black.
Woman driving, man sleeping.
There's no radio to play.
Sitting with the map,
laying crumpled on her lap.
Looking for the toll money to pay.
Man sleeping is man dreaming,
in a large apartment house.
Walking and knocking on doors.
Woman driving, man sleeping.
Passin' all the other cars.
Searching in the black,
but never turning to look back.
A little metal box under the stars.
- Eels' song Woman driving, man sleeping
Road trip. Haven't gone on one for ages.
Wear the suitcase on the rack.
White lines shooting by,
on the pavement like the sky.
Looking straight ahead, into the black.
Woman driving, man sleeping.
There's no radio to play.
Sitting with the map,
laying crumpled on her lap.
Looking for the toll money to pay.
Man sleeping is man dreaming,
in a large apartment house.
Walking and knocking on doors.
Woman driving, man sleeping.
Passin' all the other cars.
Searching in the black,
but never turning to look back.
A little metal box under the stars.
- Eels' song Woman driving, man sleeping
Road trip. Haven't gone on one for ages.
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