In 1997, when Chely Wright sang "Shut Up and Drive," not to be confused with Rihanna's lackluster twerk-fest by the same title, the narrator was a woman. So, to suit the present situation, and the death of the last dream I had left after the back-to-back nightmares of 2019 and 2020, I've had to alter the lyrics a bit, especially in the second and third verses.
Shut up and ride.
Don't waste any more time on that ho'.
She ain't the one.
Everyone's told you that, bro.
You've got one o' those hearts,
that conflicts with your mind.
It's got a long streak, of makin' you weak,
so shut up and ride.
Don't look at that phone.
You might see those shimmering eyes,
those soft baby-blues that drown out your will to survive.
She's mastered the art
of leadin' you on.
And her eyes have a way, of makin' you stay.
Don't look at that phone.
(Chorus): I'm the voice you've never listened to,
and it's always taken pain for you to see
that she will very soon be missing you,
but you'll only miss the girl you knew she'd never be.
Throw back one more round.
"До здоровье" and "прощай!"
Hold your head up.
Show me you've still got your pride.
A Long Island or two
is enough for her mem'ry to drown.
That bartender, Dwight, he makes 'em up right,
so have one more round.
(Chorus Repeat)
Shut up and ride.
Don't look at that phone.
Have one more round.
Move the fuck on.
...Just shut up and ride...