That what I like—
midnight neon drippin’ on my skin,
your laugh cracklin’ through the cheap radio,
bare feet on dash, peach soda on our lips,
city lights blink like the hearts we almost break.
We steal the moon, trade it for a slow kiss,
let tomorrow burn out in the rear-view mirror;
every stolen second tastes like forever,
and baby, that reckless sugar—
that’s exactly what I like.