Weekends

Those tires are talking now
She can feel the vibrations
And creases are stained yellow

She's in downtown London
The stereos are screaming
And her body temperature's rising

Home is something distant
She is slipping away
And these miles battle years

Everything looks the same here
Everything is so empty

Towers are planted
Signal them
Towers are planted
Signal the rulers of the sky

One, two, three
The red eye is blinking

Towers are planted
Save them
Towers are planted
Save the rulers of the sky

Watch as the pretty lights dance
Red, green, blue, white
They paint this place

The television is talking again
Look at those dirty shoes
And look at their dirty smiles

I want him
I need him
I miss him

It's the weekend
Let's not celebrate it

Weekends just aren't the same without you