the dial on the dashboard never tells a lie
we’ll push her well past ninety-five
the radio sings out a song that we all know
(it’s done to death by now)
we’re sick of early morning drives
and counting time in exit signs
we’re tired, and we’re ready to go home
«just turn this car around,» she says under her breath
but she’s been thinking this to death
for anyone to voice objection at this hour
must have forgotten why we left
and we’re the troubadours of the turnpike tonight
remembered in the history books
with broken smiles and dirty looks
and time will serve us well tonight
we’re sick of early morning drives
and counting time in exit signs
we’re tired, and we’re ready to go home
but what if memories we made
could rise above these freeway lanes?
well i, for one, would never let it go
what if all the time we spent
held eternal relevance?
well i, for one, would never let it go