Abstract

And I’m driving a stolen car, down on Eldridge Avenue. Each night I wait to get caught, but I never do. She asked if I remembered the letters I wrote, when our love was young and bold. She said last night she read those letters: and they made her feel one hundred years old. I’m driving a stolen car, on a pitch black night, and I’m telling myself — I’m gonna be alright. But I ride by night, and I travel in fear, that in this darkness, I will disappear. Bruce Springsteen ‘Stolen Car’ The River