All of this
Feels so temporary.
Late afternoon
Driving across the prairies.
What the hell are we doing,
Spending every dollar we have?
With no time to slow down,
And no guts to go back.
But Hannah, Hannah, Hannah,
I'm sorry about all of this,
So give me just a minute
To sort out everything
And I will,
I will.
I know the freeway
Leaves much to be desired,
And I'd trade a little colour
For all these telephone wires
There are things I want to show you
But I might not get the chance,
So I could never blame you
For making other plans.
And Hannah, Hannah, Hannah,
I'm sorry about all of this,
So give me just a minute
To sort out everything
And I will.