Killer in the Back Seat

Time races, like wildfire
As I ride through the muck and mire
Something is close to me
Something I cannot see
He hears the songs I sing
From out of sight he watches me

Killer in the backseat
I’m driving with a killer in the backseat
I’m driving with a don’t don’t turn around, no no no
Don’t turn around, don’t turn around

What makes him tick so differently?
Why can’t he, behave naturally, humanly?
His hands turn the radio dial
In the rearview, I see his sadistic smile