Pauly tells me half way to Boston to buckle up
And he doesn’t mean the seat belt,
Mumbling over the steering wheel
He grips too tight,
We both holding on to this world
As we drive straight through the night
Not thinking too much about
What we’ll do when we get there
Or what we’ll say
Or how either of us will feel
If she picks the other one of us,
“What is is,” Pauly mutters,
“If you love it enough,
It changes you.”
But that doesn’t tell either of us
What we’re supposed to do next,
I tell Pauly:
“Just shut the fuck up and drive.”
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