destination home

trees at seventy miles an hour
hundred and thirty three miles to go
eighth of a tank wont get us there
stopping in the bitter cold

fill this empty tank up
my heart will get filled at the destination
stark night at two a.m.
we will get there before dawn

fog on the windows
defrost can't quench the bitter cold
headlights turn to beams in the fog


mile markers fly by
countdown till our destination
one by one we continue to subtract
well be there before we know it

these destination streets are right
we follow these stripes home tonight