(Verse 1) Up at thirty thousand feet, the cabin starts to fray, Silver tape around a man to keep the storm at bay. Down along the piney woods, previewing through the haze, Another week of headlines spinning out in quiet daze. (Chorus) And the rain flirts with North Texas as the season starts to roll, Cybercabs in Austin cruising right past our control. No pedals in the floorboard, no hands upon the wheel, Just a state line running wild on what is and isn’t real. (Verse 2) Out in the salt grass prairies, where shadows used to hide, Twenty years of answers for a decades-broken tide. Under Friday lights down south, the standings take their place, While Perez swings for history with fire in her face. (Chorus) And the rain flirts with North Texas as the season starts to roll, Cybercabs in Austin cruising right past our control. No pedals in the floorboard, no hands upon the wheel, Just a state line running wild on what is and isn’t real. (Bridge) The anchor signs off quiet, five years behind the screen, Packing up the stories of the places in between. A camera watches Dallas, the sirens fade away, Just another broadcast closing on a Friday Texas day. (Outro) Tape on the fuselage, steel on the street, Autumn in the forecast, marching to the beat. No hands on the wheel... Yeah, no hands on the wheel.
