I’d follow my dreams if my car was faster,
And if I could master the clutch
And my windscreen wasn’t plastered
With fly shit and dust,
I’d drift and drive ‘til the tank ran dry.
The million-mile-an-hour fields
Hold the key to never moving
To never holding out for
What falls through the sand.
So make this chance to take this hand:
‘Cause next to me there’s a passenger seat.
And I know this sounds like
Another lonely tirade,
But I’m tired of games
And shameless blame
Of a hated name.
I’ll take anyone in that seat.
It might be Mike or Liv or James,
Or any of you wonderful fuckers’ names!
So take my proposal
With a bloodshot forget-me-not
Cut from a lamppost,
Tied to an envelope.
All my love,
Signed with kisses and curses.