Wishful Driving

This rain,
this rain is
killing me.
I can hear it
on the windowpane
keeping me
from the grass
and the sky.
But this rain,
this rain,
it keeps me
in the car.
And as long as I
keep going,
I won't remember that
(you're gone).
Keep thinking about
that night waiting for you.
Sterile walls
and sickly lighting,
and making small talk,
when there was nothing
to say.
I knew how it
would end,
but I kept hoping.
I kept hoping.
Wish I was somewhere
like Nebraska,
with all the things
I remember about
that long-lost Saturday.
But since the night
I spent
waiting for you,
I know I won't
hit Nebraska again.
Some places
are best left
to the memory.
But this rain,
this rain,
keeps me driving.
And for that,
I guess I'm grateful.