Mileage

Right turn
The neighborhood is pretty quiet for a weekday
Left turn
The same one way to work almost everyday

Pass by the high school
A memory rerun
When I was seventeen couldn't wait for twenty-one
I pass by the church
Where I married you
When you were twenty-one and I was twenty-two

A stop sign
A chance to clear my mind before the workday
Then a right turn
Is where I catch another glimpse of the highway

So I speed pass the building
I always wanted to
Since I was twenty-one, almost twenty-two
If I'd had the nerve
I'd have quit there before
You turned twenty-three and couldn't take me anymore

The well known
Sits in a cloud of dust of on this weekday
My cell phone
Is in about a million pieces on the highway

Speed down the highway
Rack up the miles
One hundred twenty-one, a hundred twenty-two
Roll down the window
Roll out the miles
One hundred twenty-three, a hundred twenty-four
And straight down the highway
The road offers no guarantees
(One thousand twenty-one, one thousand twenty-two.)
Drive through the morning, drive into the sun
And I'm free
(One thousand twenty-three, one thousand twenty-four)