In our covered wagon times when dad he had his captain eyes we'd get the steel horse moving on the straights and lines of 95 and mom she was our singer and we kept alive on greasy fries I held onto my stash of jams that ran along in Michelin time In the back of our old car never going to far In the back of our old car I think we've gone too far And there's no way to remind me of pacific plates or what the text was No better way to remind me of sun heated seats then "love me do" was In the back of our old car never going to far In the back of our old car I think we've gone too far