| We were islands soaked in solitude
|
| Joined by the tide, we pushed back and we outgrew
|
| If you told me the highway would wear your tires through
|
| Then I’d go back and take the long way with you
|
| Warm cans of Steel Reserve in a basement
|
| Sweat-stained singalongs and discontent
|
| Bound together by not fitting in
|
| Punk rock songs and teenage stress
|
| We were freaks, we were kids, we were miscreants
|
| We were islands soaked in solitude
|
| Joined by the tide, we pushed back and we outgrew
|
| If you told me the highway would wear your tires through
|
| Then I’d go back and take the long way with you
|
| In bars that reeked of piss and alcohol
|
| Choking on mothballs in legion halls
|
| Found a place where we belonged
|
| With each other we were strong
|
| We were kin, we were rebels lost without a cause
|
| It’s a lump in my throat and a longing for the Mitten State
|
| An infinite search for a past that I can’t recreate
|
| We were islands soaked in solitude
|
| Joined by the tide, we pushed back and we outgrew
|
| If you told me the highway would wear your tires through
|
| Then I’d go back and take the long way
|
| We were islands soaked in solitude
|
| Joined by the tide, we pushed back and we outgrew
|
| If you told me the highway would wear your tires through
|
| Then I’d go back and take the long way with you |