The ride home is always torture
She kills me, she really does
The radio whispers in the background
Raindrops beat against the windshield
The tires hiss across the wet pavement
She could be crying for all I know
I’m not going to turn my head and look

White headlights fly towards us
I could close my eyes and let the car drift
I could suddenly jerk the wheel to the side
I could all end it all right here
Would she even scream?
The traffic light turns red, and I ease to a stop
The red light, the perfect opportunity to talk
Silence.