Foguetes no asfalto, sparks along the seam (wersja 2)

Intro

Low idle humming through the floor

Breath turning white against the door

Tires on the gravel, waking up the lane

Cold in the knuckles, blood in the vein

Verse

Exhaust condensation curling off the curb at four

Copper in the dental work, boots against the metal floor

Spent November frozen under halogen and heavy gray

Counting every breath like it’s a token that I threw away

Now the radiator clicks, the needle leaves the resting notch

Twenty-eight degrees, I watch the liquid in the bezel drop

Blood is running late, but it’s arriving at the fingertips

Static on the dashboard, listening to how the winter rips

Autopilot broke, I finally look into the mirror glass

Blurry line of tail lights showing where the fever passed

Used to feel like Styrofoam, hollow when the hammer struck

Now the pavement answers when the axle hits a patch of muck

Friction is an argument I finally want to have again

Oxygen is sharp enough to cut into the abdomen

Yellow lines are streaking like an unspooled reel of tape

Burning off the calcium to let the heavy wheel escape

Chorus

Foguetes no asfalto, sparks along the seam

Tasting all the copper just to know it isn't dream

Foguetes no asfalto, friction on the skin

Tell me when the asphalt lets the morning in (morning in)

Verse

Third gear winding, iron in the humid breeze

Shedding every layer like a locust in the citrus trees

Surviving isn't holy, it’s a cellar where you learn to wait

Guarding every crumb until the lock is glued with heavy weight

I broke the seal tonight, the manifold is glowing red

Better to be shivering than drifting in an unmade bed

Hear the low frequency shaking out the lumbar plate

City under scaffolding, the traffic lights don't calibrate

They just flash amber, rhythm of an open eye

Concrete starts to screeching when the tire tread is running dry

I can smell the kerosene, the peppermint inside my mouth

Map is on the passenger, I’m steering till the wind goes south

Every little tendon waking up to pull its own supply

Never let an easy peace convince me that I shouldn't try

Hit the overpass, the underbelly throws the rattle back

Fire on the roadway, running down the yellow track

Chorus

Foguetes no asfalto, sparks along the seam

Tasting all the copper just to know it isn't dream

Foguetes no asfalto, friction on the skin

Tell me when the asphalt lets the morning in (morning in)

Bridge

Foot down easy, let the clutch engage

Turning every shadow to a wider gauge

Was a ghost inside the jacket, now the pulse is back

Flint against the gravel till the knuckles crack

No more sleeping under zero, let the surface burn

Pay the toll in silver just to watch the gravel turn

Red horizon creeping, violet in the rearview glass

Everything I carried finally turning into ash

Outro

Foguetes no asfalto

Sparks along the seam

(on the seam)

Friction on the skin

Tell me when the asphalt lets the morning in