Freeway Vocal Fry

[Verse 1]
The ‘check engine’ light on the Pinto dash is my only halo now.
Expired registration taped over the glove box latch, somehow.
I take the long way home past the Nalley Valley viaduct hum,
Just to get this one part right, to prove that I’ve finally won.

[Chorus]
And I hit the high note for the empty passenger seat.
A victory lap on cracked asphalt, a quiet, furious heat.

[Verse 2]
The low-fuel warning's been on since Tuesday, a single, blinking eye.
The bass line vibrates the door panel, a pathetic battle cry.
You’d say, “Turn it up, I love this part,” and tap out the wrong time,
Then you’d look right through me, and forget you were ever mine.

[Chorus]
And I hit the high note for the empty passenger seat.
A victory lap on cracked asphalt, a quiet, furious heat.

[Bridge]
This whole damn car is a rib cage holding a collapsed lung.
My hands grip the wheel, ten calloused knuckles gone numb.

[Outro]
The song ends. The silence has a systolic beat.