Backseat - Palehound

Oh the snake that wriggles in your walls

Dreams of an orchard it could quietly slip their arms

Oh the hills, it would come 'till its scales are soft

And the sun that would greet it with every dawn

Oh, it’s cold

But it’s only getting colder

I drove

While you were sleeping in the backseat

Oh the breeze that whispers in your walls

Dreams of an ocean it can violently scream upon

Oh the waves that would mold to its every call

And the sand that would rustle with every yawn

Oh, it’s cold

And it’s only getting colder

I drove while you were sleeping in the backseat

Sleeping in the backseat

Oh, it’s cold

And it’s only getting colder

I drove while you were sleeping in the backseat

Sleeping in the backseat