From the recording In Walked Winterlark
When you grow up with an automobile radio, choices as far as your elbow, and a road that opens like a prayer beyond the dashboard threshold, another chance to try to get it right, you learn to take it. When you grow up with an automobile radio, sunrise through a safety glass window, and a road that opens like a book, no time to read the preface, an even chance doesn't need a second look. You learn to take it. The Arizona winter fit our clothes, we heard they had jobs to fill with decent pay. Lots of roads led there, and when it didn't pan out, just as many led away. When you grow up with an automobile radio, static your everyday status quo, and stations come from faraway—XERB, KOMA—but right around the corner comes a sound, you just expect it. Now my automobile drives itself, yeah, and where this music comes from I don't know, but looking in your eyes, I can see horizons, I can hear my radio. My automobile radio.