Backseat

I think I met you in a past life
In the backseat of your parent’s car
I didn’t recognize you (?)
Your reflection changes every hour
We watch the hills grow smaller in the rearview
I want to take you where the angels live
They say Los Angeles was burning down
We can just burn with it

In the backseat of your parent’s car
I can see the storm rushing in
But as long as your hand’s in mine
We can make the most of it

In the backseat of your parent’s car
I can see the storm rushing in
But as long as your hand’s in mine
We can make the most of it

In the backseat of your parent’s car
I can see the storm rushing in
But as long as your hand’s in mine
We can make the most of it