(mm) 4:17 Again Clock on the dashboard says we're running late Neither one of us seems worried today You got your hand hanging out of the window Catching little pieces of the wind as we go We were supposed to meet them half past four Now we're twenty minutes from the door You say “tell 'em traffic,” I say “that's a lie” You shrug your shoulders, turn the music high It's 4:17 (ooh) And we're nowhere we should be 4:17 But you're right here next to me Maybe being late Ain't the worst thing we could do I could miss a hundred plans If I'm wasting time with you Pulled into a parking lot for fries You stole half of mine, no surprise Phone keeps buzzing in the cup holder Somehow every minute makes us slower It's 4:17 Well, now it's 4:29 Maybe they can start without us Baby, we're doing fine (yeah) Everybody's always rushing Like they're scared to lose the day But the best part of this afternoon Is everything getting in the way 4:17 Ooh Turn that song back up
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