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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Rain on the Flyover”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Rain makes the flyover briefly legible. Tyres write and erase the lanes. The wipers keep refusing to call it a view. Above the traffic, a billboard offers a house with no weather. I drive beneath it twice. At the merge, a car signals late. Everyone leaves room anyway. For one red interval, the whole city holds in the thin white river at the edge of the windscreen. Then green. Then spray.
Lyrics
(shh-shh) Rain writes silver on the flyover. Headlights break it into lines. I drive below the speed limit. With both hands at ten and five. The wipers keep a tired promise. The city glows behind the glass. I do not know where I am going. I only know I cannot turn back. Every bridge is made for leaving. Every road is made to bend. I hold the wheel through all the water. And let the night begin. Rain on the flyover. Keep the engine warm. Rain on the flyover. Carry me through the storm. A billboard shows a smiling family. Then vanishes behind the spray. I laugh once at the perfect picture. Then let it wash away. I do not stop for directions. I stop because I am cold. There is no clean way through. (shh-shh) There is only through. (ah-ah) Rain on the flyover. Keep the engine warm. Rain on the flyover. Carry me through the storm. (shh-shh)
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