Right turn, The neighborhood is pretty quiet for a weekday. Left turn, The same one way to work almost everyday. Pass by the high school, A memory rerun When I was seventeen couldn't wait for twenty-one. I pass by the church Where I married you When you were twenty-one and I was twenty-two. A stop sign, A chance to clear my mind before the workday. Then a right turn Is where I catch another glimpse of the highway. So I speed pass the building, I always wanted to Since I was twenty-one, almost twenty-two. If I'd had the nerve, I'd have quit there before You turned twenty-three and couldn't take me anymore. The well known Sits in a cloud of dust of on this weekday. My cell phone Is in about a million pieces on the highway. Speed down the highway, Rack up the miles. One hundred twenty-one, a hundred twenty-two. Roll down the window, Roll out the miles. One hundred twenty-three, a hundred twenty-four. And straight down the highway, The road offers no guarantees. (One thousand twenty-one, one thousand twenty-two.) Drive through the morning, drive into the sun, And I'm free. (One thousand twenty-three, one thousand twenty-four)