Fugitives.

Me and Sara were fugitives from the law
Trying to get across US/Canada border
With guns on board
I was driving the car
Nervousness taking over
Sara was losing her mind
I could feel her worries entering my body
Passports being checked, we finally crossed over
I turned to the back seat
The weapons were right on sight
Right there, resting and waiting to be seen.
Rusty and old
Guns from the 1940's, maybe
Weren't they the ones my cousin had been trying to hide at my grandma's house?
How did they end up in my car?
Better yet, how could they not have seen them?
Sara smiled at me and I smiled back
Knowing that we were fugitives
Who got away right in front of their eyes.