Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Lift the curse

Draw a line

Fight the urge

Driving

Driving

I'm driving away

I won’t be a slave to the silence

The devil takes care of his own

But I'm not gonna' be his Joan of Arc

My eyes are boarded up windows

And my portrait’s printed on the ace of hearts

A layer of dust coats all my furniture

But I can't tell the facts from the folklore

My only witness is a perjurer

And the daughter of the juror is a whore

Driving

Driving

I'm driving away

I won't be a slave to the silence

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

Driving

I've faded away

I'm stranded on a desert island