California sun drip low on my skin,
palm trees spin like vinyl in the wind.
Your voicemail echoes down Venice at two,
salty tears taste like the Pacific blue.
Cruise the 405, ghost in the passenger seat,
regret’s in the rear-view, heart skips the beat.
Neon In-N-Out sign burns through the haze,
fries get cold while I’m stuck on your face.
Golden state dreams turn to rust in the night,
still I wait for you under broken stoplight.