This Ride

This ride
What a ride
What a ride
What a ride

It hurts, and it scars, and it aches, and it twists
It starves, and it laughs, and it balls up its fists
It's crooked, and it hollows, and it soothes, and it breaks
And it grows, and it ponders, toils, and it takes
It stretches, and breathes, and it is lonely and long

This ride
What a ride
Oh, my
What a ride

It calls, and it follows, and it breaks down your door
It bleeds you dry, and it asks you for more
Shows up at your work and it makes you insane
And it loses your keys, leaves you crying in the rain
It's costly and violent, it's a sorrowful song

But I am thankful by and by my love
If I'm talking too much, just give me a shove
If I'm walking too fast, maybe pick it on up
It's just like Old Yeller and Lonesome Dove
When you hate how it ends, but you can't get enough

This ride

It lifts, and it gives, and it singles you out
It shames, and it blames, and forgives, and it doubts
It inspires, and it opens our eyes, and it heals
And it coughs, and it slips, and it falls, and it steals
Your memory, your dignity, your husbands, and mothers