On idle Tuesday nights you coast into the darkness --
the captain of your two-door space cruiser.
Enveloped by the empty North Dakota roads,
among the nothingness and the stars,
you stare beyond the windshield
into the peace and the silence.

Your eyes search the horizon.

Inside your shuttle,
the music dances at volumes
Of 10 or 15 or 25.
The lights flicker.
Your phone vibrates.
It is clinging to its only bar of service
And the messages from a million loved ones back on Earth.

You pay it little attention on these drives.
The stars speak more to you
as you cruise through towns I've never heard of
(And probably won't remember).

I don't know if you know this,
But: I went to Space Camp,
and I've always been a fan of star-gazing,
and cruising past satellites you've probably never heard of.
I've got a penchant for idle Tuesday nights
and adventuring into the stars.

So the next time the stars dial your number,
your steering wheel turns toward Jupiter,
the country music is just a little too loud,
And you wanna leave these streets behind:

I've never been much of a pilot,
But I'll always be there for the ride.