Sea salt air blasts through the windows,
Strands of my hair whip my face,
Fabric around my knees billows,
Driving racecar fast down PCH,
The radio died the same day as you,
So I just listen to the roar of wind,
Smell the old cologne, cigarettes too,
I feel the tears start to brim,
This is where I feel you most,
This is where you sat with me,
When I’m here I know you’re close,
In this big, red truck; next to the dark, cold sea.