Spectator Sports Lyrics

Driving steady in traffic watching the car beside me roll

It must be doing gymnastics, a tumble, a backflip, a cloud of smoke

I watch it slide into second and wait for the call

Scratching chalkboards, the wreckage comes to a halt

And there's a puddle by the passenger door, iridescent glow

I can't help but watch as something on the road it starts to match the glowing sunset

The idler wheels are slowing down

The night sky getting darker, a parallel parker, a mushroom cloud

With steady feet on the windshield now dismembered

Sounds like the leaves in mid-November

As the bonfire rages on for growing crowds

And I think spectator sports have started making sense now

We can all go home while somebody else clears this mess out

Then we'll talk to anybody like

"You'll never guess what happened on my drive home"