I want those country roads that we drove on in a flurry of snow,
My parents talking about moving out of the city,
As they followed timidly behind us.
I want to ride shotgun and hold your thick callused hand,
While we sing to Jason Aldean.
I want that love we had,
As we drove your monstrous red Chevy
To your grandmother’s farm,
Where you said, one day, we’d raise our children.
