Well we can’t have a garden while we’re still on the road / There’s only room on the dash for a gas station rose / You know that when I shut up I got something to say / I was looking at you, you were looking away (Sean Rowe)

And the city has a way to make you forget / About half the stuff you love and things you don’t know yet / About the space that’s left when nobody talks / About the quiet on the path where nobody walks (Sean Rowe)

This whole world is a foreign land / We swallow the moon, but we do not know our own hand / We’re running with the case, but we ain’t got the gold / And we are trying to leave something behind (Sean Rowe)