Story Behind the Song
I wrote this after driving all day, waking up in an apartment that was not my own in a city that was not my own, knowing that I had another full day of driving ahead of me, and realizing that the metaphor of driving but never arriving had become central to my life.
Lyrics
The sun is fingerpainting in the dust on the floor
sliding up my shoulder on the bed by the door.
And all that's come before now is a blur in my mind.
This morning all I want is to put it all behind.
And I'm numb to the shake of the road through the wheel,
numb to the world outside this shell of glass and steel.
And your voice is fading beneath the engine's groan
but whatever else I lose I know this drive is still my own.
And ooh, I know
it's the drive that matters and I drive too slow.
And ooh, I know
you've got to take the turns you can and let the other ones go.
Landscape is melting to a blur on both sides
and dead ahead the sunlight blinds my eyes
but I have seen the road ahead: it's the same room, it's the same bed.
The situations never change, they just get new names.
And ooh, I know
it's the drive that matters and I drive too slow.
And ooh, I know
you've got to take the turns you can and let the other ones go.
The sun is fingerpainting in the dust on the floor
sliding up my shoulder on the bed by the door.
And I can try to deny, I can push it all aside,
just tell me that you'll wake me when I finally arrive.
And ooh, I know
it's the drive that matters and I drive too slow.
And ooh, I know
you've got to take the turns you can and let the other ones go.
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