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In the backseats of burned out cars.
In the disenchantment lane.
The ideal angels twist and turn and ask forgiveness for
future mistakes.
But you and I we've been through this.
Maybe 100 times before.
Always hitching rides with strangers.
Papa warned us about before

But you know the summer always brought it.
That wild and reckless breeze.
And in the backseats we just tried to find some room
for our knees.
And in the backseats we just tried to find some room to
breathe.
And in the backseats we just tried to find some room to
breathe.

And in the wild desert sun, we drove straight on
through the night.
We rode the fever out of Boston.
Dreamed of California lights.
Come July, we'll ride the Ferris Wheel.
Go round and round and round.
And If you never let me go, well I will never let you
down.

And you know the summer always brought it.
All those wild and reckless breezes.
And in the backseats we just tried to find some room
for our knees.
And in the backseats we just tried to find some room to
breathe.
And now the backseats we just try to find some room to
breathe.

And these cowboys all go crazy in the heat.
Chasing the lights in all the girls
along the Santa Anna streets that they're just dying to
meet.
It meant nothing to me.

You know the summer always brought it.
That wild and reckless breeze.
And in the backseats we just tried to find some room
for our knees.

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