[Lyric] Motorhome (Max Garca Conover)

If we make it back to New York
We’ll tell them all about New Mexico
Thanksgiving in the Walmart parking lot
Transmission busted on our motorhome

We’ll tell them how we almost made a living
Ten thousand miles like a couple dogs
Howling every night at someone different
Running home just the two of us

Driving through Wyoming in the wind
We counted out a hundred antelope
We didn’t have a place to be right then
So we pulled over and that was homе

The million ways there wеre to make our living
The million things we filled those days up with
When we stopped asking everyone’s permission
And we found out it wasn’t theirs to give

If they’re talking now and I’m not listening
If I’m staring out at the road
You know it’s probably her I’m missing
Our dear departed motorhome