You are from here and I am from there,
we drive again from your state to mine.
We've been together four years
and we have worn out eight tires.
You moved down here and we'll move back there,
we give up our places to find each other.
The sweet rain outside falls like tears,
the engine internally combusts my heart.
Though weary, we'll miss it, somewhere down the road
when together forever we sit in the house,
the only traveling there a pitter-patter
of the four little feet of one local mouse.
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