California Gracefully
Every Time I Die Lyrics

Two sets of taillights burn dim and divide,
As I watch the taillights fade into the horizon, I am reminded of the separation from my loved ones. The distance stretches between my heart and theirs, with no guarantee of reuniting.

Stretch for miles making track marks across what veins fail to carry.
The taillights create an image like veins on the road, replacing what my own veins fail to carry. They stretch on for miles, a reminder of the journey ahead and the potential struggles along the way.

You should have taken my keys while my hands were shaking.
I was not in a fit state to drive, my hands shaking from fear, stress, or perhaps addiction. I wish someone would have recognized this and taken my keys away to prevent any unnecessary harm.

You could have kept the dead gone, entombed in the soil of arms.
Had someone taken away my keys, they could have kept me from joining the ranks of the dead who perished in car accidents. Instead, I could have been cocooned in the safety of their arms.

Raise the breathing abrasion with a turn of the key.
Starting up the car is like igniting a flame within me, breathing abrasion and excitement into my body. I know that I'm about to embark on a journey that may not be entirely safe, but it's a rush that I crave.

Lost motor skills and a set cruise control.
As I drive, my motor skills become lost in the sensation of speed and control. I set cruise control, allowing the car to take over the speed and freeing up my focus for other aspects of the journey.

Mangled insect screams through the puddles of drool.
I'm so caught up in the adrenaline and rushing wind that I hardly notice the bugs that splatter across the windshield, their final screams echoing through the drool on my lips.

Mainline the highway baby,
I am fully and completely absorbed in the highway, making it my main focus and desire. It's an addiction that I can't seem to break away from, a calling that pulls me in without fail.

Tie off the concrete veins and set the radio to FM
I'm tying off the highway like a drug addict ties off their arm before injection. The concrete veins of the road wrap around me, and I set the radio to FM to drown out the other sounds of the world.

Love songs clocked relapse defined by the RPM's of a static heart,
The love songs on the radio speak to me in a way that only an addict can understand. My heart beats in sync with the RPM of the engine, creating a static noise that only I can feel and decipher.

Reanimated by the rush of eyes and horizon.
The rush of the open road and the endless horizon reawaken me, bringing me back to life like a reanimated corpse. This feeling is what I crave, what keeps me coming back for more.

Nothing warms like a road flare when caution sets.
When I'm forced to be cautious on the road, I feel like I'm losing part of myself. But the road flare, burning bright and hot, is a small comfort, a reminder that even in safety there can still be excitement.

Anodyne seeps like dashed yellow lines through the withdrawn rearview addict.
As I look in the rearview mirror, I feel withdrawn and alone, but the dashed yellow lines of the road act as a balm in some small way. Anodyne energy seeps through my veins as I continue driving.

Drenched to the drawn teeth in seething foam.
The foaming rush of the road has soaked me down to my very core, filling me with a seething energy that is hard to contain. It's a feeling that I can't quite explain, but that I know I need to chase.

If you want me dead, you should have called me home.
I know the danger that comes with my addiction to the road, and sometimes it feels like it's inevitable that I'll end up dead. But if someone really wants to keep me safe, they should have called me home and kept me away from the highway altogether.

Rumble strip as pulse prevents retreating eyes, dilate and close.
The sound of the rumble strip underneath my tires keeps me present, preventing me from retreating into my own thoughts or fears. My eyes dilate and close as I lose myself in the sensation of the road.

I can feel the dry heaves moisten, I can feel the blood withdraw.
The rush of the road is so intense that it affects me physically, making my dry heaves moisten and my blood withdraw. I feel like I'm living on the edge, and it's a feeling that I can't quite replicate anywhere else.

You are my failed twelve step program.
In a way, the road is like my addiction and my failed attempt to conquer it. It's a 12-step program that I keep relapsing from, unable to escape the allure and the rush of the highway.

A red light could kick this habit, a needle full of the junkies fuel.
At times, it feels like only a red light or some other form of interruption could kick me out of this habit of driving. But even in those moments, I can feel the pull of the road like a needle full of junkie's fuel.

Drops of blood on her fingertips.
The road isn't just an addiction for me, it's also a danger to those around me. Drops of blood on someone's fingertips could be a sign of an accident or harm caused by my reckless driving habits.

Your arms are a deprivation chamber.
Even though I crave the rush of the open road, I know that true safety and happiness is found in the arms of my loved ones. Without them, I am stuck in a deprivation chamber of my own making.

Sterile to sixty in forever flat.
The road can seem sterile and unchanging at times, flat and uninteresting. But even so, I find myself accelerating to sixty miles per hour, chasing the high and the thrill of the open road.

Dissolve into the coast like John Wayne.
As I near the coast, I feel like I'm channeling John Wayne, dissolving into the scenery like a true cowboy. It's a feeling of adventure and freedom that I relish, a final burst of adrenaline before I slow down and come back to reality.

A hero and his heroine.
For a moment, as I come to the end of my journey, I feel like a true hero, a warrior who conquered the road and all of its dangers. And in the end, I know that my loved ones are waiting for me, fulfilling their role as the heroine in my story.