Take a long time,
It’s part of the act.
You’re turning to fiction
What you know is fact.
The fact is you don’t know
Just who you are.
You turn off your mind
And you get into his car.

It’s really quite sad;
You feel it sometimes,
To can’t help committing
Those innocent crimes.
The crime is you can’t see
Him going too far.
You won’t feel so sad
When you’re in his car

The engine starts and you leave behind
The successful life that you had in mind.
The night comes close as you leave the road.
The engine dies and the night’s high-sold.
Not a word as you sit and stare.
The doors are locked, but what do you care ?
What do you think as the passion flows ?
What do you think, do you think he knows ? Oh !

So you wake up,
A tear in your eye.
The night-time remembered
Brings only a sigh.
You picture an evening
Spent under the stars;
You picture your child
In the backseat of his car.