Words that turn to birds

Nowhere

There is a long road ahead of us,
its end seeped in fog,
Better than the one behind us,
but it dead-ends in the smog.

Our conversations loop just like a CD in our car,
for reasons I’ve forgot,
The words leave awkward silence in our car,
gestures hide a lot

We miss our seventh turn off and go straight ahead where no destination lies,
Driving like the answer is straight ahead when there are only empty skies
And there’s nothing straight ahead, but don’t stop now, we’re already dead
And that falsely hopeful future?
Well, we both won’t shoot it in the head

‘Cause in the end we’re going nowhere, driving nowhere, getting nowhere.
There’s wind in my hair and we aren’t getting anywhere,
So in the end it’s the only place to go.<