Oh the rush hour is over,
And the night has been trying,
To drive us and chase us away,
But we're lovely and drunk now,
And our laugh dosen't rattle or fray,
And the friday folk are coming round,
To the wildness have its way.

Oh sweet Autumn,
With your dark surprise,
And your short days all smudged with gold,
You covered up worn paths for us,
So no story could be told,
And sent the dark come tumbling down,
So the wildness can't grow cold,
So the morning would never know.

Of the wildness, of the wildness,
Driving me on again,
The wildness, the wildness,
Shaking me letting me know.

There were two of us driving,
We were six miles out,
And a hundred miles to go,
Still the morning lies waiting,
And the light falls on your travel map,
I'm still here hoping,
For the wildness to relax,
For the wildness to go back.

Of the wildness, of the wildness,
Driving me on again,
The wildness, the wildness,
Shaking me letting me know.

I went up to your house one night,
I took 59 in the rain,
And I saw your tiny face shine,
So calm and so bright and so gay,
I called in
I called out
I couldn't see any other name,
I woke one morning,
With the wildness once again,
With the wildness shining in.

Of the wildness, of the wildness,
Driving me on again,
The wildness, the wildness,
Shaking me letting me know.

Words and Music - Ricky Ross / James Prime