Darling did you ever think that the streets are letters to the sky? That maybe the turns are the letter U and the lights are where we dot the Is?

Perhaps the cars trace over repeated lines, made anew with the bright headlights. Maybe forks are where I tell you Y and how we didn't see the signs. I don't know all the words these roads spell, but I'm sure there weren't enough of them, as far as I could tell.

Even as the world turns, the letters are just made anew. Darling, if nothing else, please know that I [street] you.