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