Modern music plays 

I’m riding in the back seat

I see tall buildings 

We’re going uphill through a light that’s green 

It turns yellow right over our car

The chorus plays

My son is driving 

He’s 25

His brother rides shotgun

I’m riding in the backseat 

Listening to the modern music play

The brothers are very Karamazov

chatting over the theology of patricide and foreign cars

Im in a strange town

Strange music surrounds me

But I find I feel strangely familiar to myself 

My hearts desires have never changed 

My heart itself beats the same old way

Keeping perfect time

Even while this modern music plays 

-jenn