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