I’m so tired of water.
Three inches of rain in the passenger side.
The intestines of cassette tapes
are shining at the curb,
begging just one more play,
begging just one more ride,
but I just keep driving.
I just keep driving.
You close your eyes,
three inches away in the passenger side.
James is on the radio singing,
“Don’t let me be loney,”
as I turn off the headlights,
take two states by moonlight,
I can’t stop driving.
I can’t stop driving.
(chorus)
And you say,
“Baby, it’s alright,
the rain’s subsiding.
We might even be dry tonight.”
My wheels aren’t even
touching the ground.
We’re flying on faith
that the engine will hold.
Keep us going.
Keep us going.
(chorus)
I’m so tired of highway.
Three miles to the toll at the coming state line.
No quarters but this quarter tank,
we search our empty hands.
As Illinois is overflowing,
we hope for a little change here inside,
so we can keep driving.
So we can keep driving.
(chorus)
