Don't wake me up to drive, I barely slept at all last night.    Keep moving down I-25 until morning breaks.       Here we go again,    a mile further away from what's been left    so far behind.    And every single day my guts rewind.       We stay inside these lines, we're moving on without design,    or who we left that night.    Godspeed, goodbye.       And so we're waiting.    Am I still here at all?    And we'll be waiting.    Am I still here at all?