Put your hands on the wheel,
Let the golden age begin.
Let the window down,
Feel the moonlight on your skin.
Desert of wind,
Cool your aching head.
Weight of the world,
Drift away instead.

Oh-oh-oh, these days I hardly get by,
I don't even try.

There's a treacherous road,
With a desolated view.
As distant lights,
Hear their foreign view.
Sun don't shine,
Even when it's day.
Drive all night,
Just to feel like you're okay.

Oh-oh-oh, these days I barely get by,
I don't even try.
I don't even try.

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): A. R. RAHMAN, CRAIG MACKENZIE ARMSTRONG