Speeding Ticket

Six cylinders pump as I upshift Pushing 90 'til I'm close to you And as the plains turn to hills, and we're mumbling still I've got 200 miles of blue But your voice was drowned out by the highway patrol As I pull to the side of the road And as the cop writes a ticket I can't afford Your voice through the phone draws me home Brought back to a ten-year-old dream in the passenger seat Of a '98 Mustang, I'm free And if he could see me now, if he could hear me now Well, I wouldn't have started to sing But your voice through the phone drives me home Your voice through the phone drives me home