Sitting in traffic,
inclement weather,
looking for something to do.
Rush hour, escaping from the city;
I’m glad you’re with me now,
I love to hold your hand.
We’re on the freeway, love,
but we are barely moving;
whichever way we look,
it is an auto land.
The light of day is now receding,
I’m glad we have a new CD.
The motor runs, but we are stuck,
I cannot wait till we are back at home
so I can work on my truck.
Despite this weather,
despite this traffic sea,
it’s just you and me.
So bored, like we are in a prison;
the wind blows icy rain our way.
Give me just one more kiss--
who cares if they look on.
The miles flow like clay;
we’ve crept a few more inches.
Sometime we’ll find our way;
perhaps it will be dawn.
The apathy is now exceeding;
we both are eyeing the back seat.
My motor runs and you are here.
I do not care that there are many cars--
let’s make them all disappear.
Despite this weather,
despite this traffic sea,
it’s just you and me.
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