Remember the days when the gauge ran low, When the tires slipped and the going was slow? We had two AMs with nowhere to be, Just a battered heater, you, and me. I didn't have gold, I didn't have grace, Just the stubborn lines carved in my face. You saw the mess, you saw the stress, You saw my worst and gave your best. When my own head told me I wasn't enough, When the engine stalled and the road got rough, You took my hand, a silent guide, And proved the depth of the ride or die. I remember the chill and the dropping gauge, The sputtering heater on our makeshift stage. You speak of your mess and a lack of grace, But I see the map written on your face. A map of a survivor, stubborn and true, And there’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be stuck than with you. When your own mind whispers its heavy deceit, I’ll be the floorboards beneath your feet. I don't need gold, and I don't need a crown, Just the engine that roars when the heavy snows fall down. The dashboard hummed its erratic song, While the miles we traveled stretched too long. With empty pockets and frozen breath, We danced on the edge of a quiet death. But failure didn't look grand or grim, It was just a cup filled to the brim With all the doubts that I couldn't hide, Left out to freeze on the passenger side. Yet every time that the shadows crept, While the rest of the world securely slept, You kept the vigil, you kept the spark, And pulled us bleeding through the dark. I saw the panic that gripped your chest When the engine died on the mountain crest. I saw the frost on the windowpane, And the heavy burden of internal pain. But I never doubted the strength of your hand, Or the quiet power of the life we planned. So let the fuel run dangerously low, And let the bitter winds continue to blow. As long as your heartbeat matches my own, We are never broken, and never alone.
