I got options, but they all look like exits
Masked faces in the rearview, all asking where next is
Faith got a chokehold, fear got a Lexus
I’m speeding through the questions, GPS like “repent, kid”
Voices in the dash say “turn back,” I’m reckless
Every lane switch is a prayer with the headlights as relics
Hope’s in the trunk, still breathing, still restless
I press gas—either mercy or wreckage
Either way, I’m en-route to the message