My Friends

Well I’m not sure how many miles left on this old blue rusted van
We pray, Betsy show us the coast like we know you can
And we’ll instill the life and ideals we’ve dreamed
Collect salt from the Atlantic coast, all the way to the Pacific sea

And I can’t count how many nights I’ve spent tired, exhausted, and alone
Fueled by a dream of traveling home and the road
It’s more than a choice, we’d never fit in 9 to 5, suits and ties negotiating for some corporation
And I won’t forget these streets I’ve played on, but we’ve got to make something of ourselves

We’ll call wherever we are home
And we might die trying to cross state lines but we’ll never regret it

My friends have heavy hearts and cultured heads
They know everything and anything
And I swear one day we’ll all belong to regret, like salt to the ocean