Passenger Seat by Spyplund

[INTRO — instrumental, soul loop crackle, soft keys]

[VERSE 1 — deep contemplative voice, slow]
Same Buick, different driver now (yeah)
He sits shotgun with a blanket on his knees
The man who taught me ten-and-two now watches trees
Go by like they're the TV — Tuesdays, nine A.M.
Chemo at nine-thirty, we don't say the word
We say the appointment, like it's something you deferred
From a dentist — and he naps the whole way there
Snoring like an engine that don't know repair
I remember being fifteen, white-knuckling this wheel
Him calm as a deacon saying son, you gotta feel
The road, don't fight it — now the road is mine
And the student checks the mirrors for the both of us this time

[VERSE 2 — voice drops lower, steady]
He don't eat much after, so we do the drive-through first
Milkshake before the poison — that's the rule he rehearsed
With the nurse, and she laughs and lets it slide
Says he's everybody's favorite on the Tuesday side
Of the week — 'course he is, he learned their names
Brings the crossword, shares the answers, plays the games
Like a host — like the chair's his favorite recliner
That's the trick I'm learning from the old designer
Of my hands — you don't bow to the thing
You set a place for it at the table, then you sing
Louder than it — then you drive your daddy home
Through the October trees, in a Buick full of poem

[HOOK — tender half-sung]
Passenger seat, passenger seat
All those years you carried me
Now it's my turn, take your rest
Dad, I've got the wheel — you did your best
(passenger seat)

[VERSE 3 — voice cracking warm]
He says the nurses fight for Tuesdays with him
Says that's a kind of fame he never planned
Then he sleeps — and I drive us through the gold trees
Feeling his hand on my shoulder even in dreams
Passenger seat, old man, rest your head
I got us both — that's all that needs said

[BRIDGE — keys swell, voice opens up]
Last Tuesday, half asleep, he reached across the seat
And patted twice my hand upon the wheel
Didn't say a word — didn't have to speak
Some lessons take you thirty years to feel
(passenger seat)

[OUTRO — soul loop rides out, soft]
Tuesdays, nine A.M.
I pick him up
(passenger seat)

2165/7500

[INTRO — instrumental, soul loop crackle, soft keys] [VERSE 1 — deep contemplative voice, slow] Same Buick, different driver now (yeah) He sits shotgun with a blanket on his knees The man who taught me ten-and-two now watches trees Go by like they're the TV — Tuesdays, nine A.M. Chemo at nine-thirty, we don't say the word We say the appointment, like it's something you deferred From a dentist — and he naps the whole way there Snoring like an engine that don't know repair I remember being fifteen, white-knuckling this wheel Him calm as a deacon saying son, you gotta feel The road, don't fight it — now the road is mine And the student checks the mirrors for the both of us this time [VERSE 2 — voice drops lower, steady] He don't eat much after, so we do the drive-through first Milkshake before the poison — that's the rule he rehearsed With the nurse, and she laughs and lets it slide Says he's everybody's favorite on the Tuesday side Of the week — 'course he is, he learned their names Brings the crossword, shares the answers, plays the games Like a host — like the chair's his favorite recliner That's the trick I'm learning from the old designer Of my hands — you don't bow to the thing You set a place for it at the table, then you sing Louder than it — then you drive your daddy home Through the October trees, in a Buick full of poem [HOOK — tender half-sung] Passenger seat, passenger seat All those years you carried me Now it's my turn, take your rest Dad, I've got the wheel — you did your best (passenger seat) [VERSE 3 — voice cracking warm] He says the nurses fight for Tuesdays with him Says that's a kind of fame he never planned Then he sleeps — and I drive us through the gold trees Feeling his hand on my shoulder even in dreams Passenger seat, old man, rest your head I got us both — that's all that needs said [BRIDGE — keys swell, voice opens up] Last Tuesday, half asleep, he reached across the seat And patted twice my hand upon the wheel Didn't say a word — didn't have to speak Some lessons take you thirty years to feel (passenger seat) [OUTRO — soul loop rides out, soft] Tuesdays, nine A.M. I pick him up (passenger seat)

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