I drove through Amarillo with your records on the seat

Radio kept skipping like it knew you’d lied to me

The motel smelled like chlorine, roses rotting in a vase

I traced your name in lipstick on the mirror’s silver face

The waitress called me “honey,” poured my coffee black

Said love don’t last forever but the fever always drags

I lit a match and watched the highway swallow night

Your ghost was humming hymns in every passing sign

Ashes in Amarillo, smoke against the sky

I bury all my secrets where the jackrabbits hide

Your Bible in the glove box, pages torn in two

I swore I’d stop believing, but it all comes back to you

There’s lipstick on the filter of a half-burnt cigarette

And postcards from a city where the sun forgets to set

I kissed a stranger’s knuckles just to feel like I was free

But every road I wander sounds like you inside of me

If I make it to December, maybe I can start again

But the highways know my story better than my friends

I still see your reflection in the window of the train

Singing broken hallelujahs in a bar that knows my name

Ashes in Amarillo, smoke against the sky

I bury all my secrets where the jackrabbits hide

Your Bible in the glove box, pages torn in two

I swore I’d stop believing, but it all comes back to you