Permanent Press

[Verse 1]
Four-eighteen AM, the dashboard Jesus glows a soft red.
Got the Borman cleared by Gary, chasing promises you said.
The tires hum a new tune on the wet salt of the lane,
And the skyline's rising up to wash away the rain.

[Chorus]
This is the last first morning.
The final hairline crack.
This is the U-Haul promise with no thought of turning back.

[Verse 2]
Last October, you were packing, the air was sharp and thin.
You said, "There ain't enough machine left in this town to bolt me in."
I watched your tail lights bleed into the glow from U.S. Steel.
Never asked you if that freedom ever started feeling real.

[Bridge]
The phone buzzes, it's a picture of the station clock.
And my whole damn engine seizes up, a sudden, dead-stop block.
That hope I've been running on is starting to feel cheap,
Like a paper gasket that you know is gonna leak.

[Chorus]
This is the last first morning.
The final hairline crack.
This is the U-Haul promise with no thought of turning back.

[Outro]
The tires hum a worn-out tune on the wet salt of the lane.
And the skyline's just a set of teeth grinning in the rain.