Getting There

After driving seven hours of what should have been two and a half to get to her graduation, we arrived past midnight after a day of work and the scare of a merging lorry. I was tired, I was proud.

Next time, you can drive

We started out on the southern rail lines
Then moved to petrol, lanes, and lay-bys,
It's about three years, as the crow flies
Now we're waiting for the cars to begin.

The next exit is no longer an option
For the deadline set for tomorrow morning.
We'll be suited, and booted, and glowing, and yawning
Because we're waiting for the cars to begin.

You've been busy and writing and learning,
And I've been working and tired and earning.
Between the kisses and the turntable turning
We were waiting for the cars to begin.

Surrounded by darkness and the brightness of lights
And the letters and notes that we would both write.
The arguments and the accidental bites
While we were waiting for the cars to begin.

From zero, to ten, to twenty, to thirty,
The car starts to trundles its way to the sea.
Who knows, we might even make it for tea!
Now that the cars have begun.

We park outside of your old place
And you say that the taxi awaits.
There's a whole world inside of your suitcase
Now that the cars have begun.

Our beds lay at the top of a climb.
Three years, and sevens of, of following the line.
I tell you that you can drive us next time
Now that the cars have aligned.