Falling Elevators

It's 3:00am. 
  I reach cover and turn on the radio. 
  It coughs up noise that reminds me of a soundtrack to a bad dream. 
  The rain is hitting my windshield so hard, 
  I can barely hear the tinny, garbled voices. 
  The cars outside rush by like falling elevators. 
  My headlights catch fleeting images of ghostly faces, 
  Pressed up again glass in silent desperation. 
  I'm lost in the middle of nowhere. 
  But I keep my eyes on the road, 
  And I don't look back