You're Driving


You're driving, not me.
I'm an Idiot, and can't remember,
Where I'm going, or why.


You're driving, not me.
It's all up to you, my friend,
How long we travel together,
Along this ancient road.

I'm an Idiot,
And have long since forgotten,
Where I'm going,
Or why.

Pulling over, you asked,
“What's this I Feel?!”
And so I got in to explain,
That I haven't a clue.

As long as you're satisfied with that,
And don't mind simply… driving,
I will ride with you,
Cruisin', the Wind of Eternity in our hair.

I Loved when you turned and said,
With Happiness, not regret,
“Now I'm not getting anywhere!”
And we laughed for miles.

Two Idiots now, not one.
Both found at last,
And utterly Lost.
Road tripping into the Unknown.

It's up to you how far we travel,
Together down this road,
Ever appearing, ever vanishing.
You're driving, not me.

You can drop me off anytime,
And we will be friends as we were,
When you first pulled over and asked,
“What's this I Feel?!”

“What's this?!”
I haven't a clue.
What, where, why, how?
We're not getting anywhere.

What an Unimaginable Blessing.