speeding into the horizon dreaming of the sirens wishing for broken glass on a highway it could be so easy the rhythm the rhythm of an engine always makes me empty i see the headlights coming at me i can t help but wonder flying flying in slow motion the wind through my hair and ripping through the scenery of the wreckage it is my secret need speeding into the horizon dreaming of the sirens wishing for broken glass on a highway it could be so easy