Summer came and you left it all behind.
Red Sox games and Red Line trains.
Told yourself that nothing stays all dizzy and bright,
traded it all to watch the world glide by
through that back bench-seat window.
How could you not go?
Everywhere you went, your friends were waiting there.
Held onto nothing so that nothing could break in the end.
Envied everyone who was not you,
and never forgave the rules that were older than time.
That made time,
and gravity did what gravity does.
So you just kept on running,
remembering Led Zeppelin songs with you feet on her dash.
but her words they chase you still
"those highway lines will never love you back"