Real-Time Boring Drive to Hell

Lyrics

[Intro]
Grey plastic wheel, warm in my hands.
The road from Tucson is just one straight line.
Eight hours to go.

[Verse 1]
There are no passengers.
No radio.
The engine never changes its song.
Forty-five miles an hour, not a mile more.
The landscape is a JPEG of a scrubby nowhere.
Penn and Teller wrote this joke in 1995.
A punchline nobody was supposed to hear.
Just a digital purgatory on a Philips CD-i.

[Chorus]
And the bus pulls to the right.
Always to the right.
A gentle, constant, idiot drift.
So I turn a little left.
Just enough.
And we're straight again.
For a second.
Eight hours to Vegas, one point at a time.

[Verse 2]
Every thirty seconds, the wipers swipe.
At a sky with no clouds, no rain, no sun.
Just a flat blue ceiling.
Mark Johnson and Richard Marin, did you ever make the drive yourselves?
Did you feel the pull?
This slow, dumb gravity trying to pull you into a ditch made of pixels?

[Chorus]
And the bus pulls to the right.
Always to the right.
A gentle, constant, idiot drift.
So I turn a little left.
Just enough.
And we're straight again.
For a second.
Eight hours to Vegas, one point at a time.

[Bridge]
Then came November, 2007.
The room smelled of cold pizza and hot consoles.
And the joke became a vigil.
Suddenly the pull to the right wasn't just a bug.
It was a dragon to be slain for charity.
Every soft click of correction, a dollar raised.
Every hour we didn't crash, a small victory against the void.
We all started driving together.

[Outro]
The drone continues.
The road is still straight.
The light does not change.
It's still pulling right.
And I am still turning left.
Almost there.
Almost.