She’s asleep in the backseat
looking peaceful enough to me,
but she’s waking up inside a dream
full of screeching tires and fire.
We’re coming back from where no one lives,
pretty much just veterans.
When I pointed out where the north star is,
she called me a fucking liar.

Emily, I’m sorry I just
make it up as I go along
and I can feel myself becoming
someone only you could want.

Headed straight for the concrete
in a nightmare screaming.
Now I’m wide awake, spiraling,
and you don’t want to talk.
Just take me back to Montreal.
I’ll get a real job, you’ll go back to school.
We can burn out in the freezing cold
and just get lost.

Emily, I’m sorry, baby.
You know how I get when I’m wrong
and I can feel myself becoming
somebody I’m not, I’m not so-

Emily, forgive me, can we
make it up as we go along?
I’m twenty seven and I don’t who I am
but I know what I want.

Emily, I’m sorry.
Emily, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.