Cruise Control

The story

I used to chase the road. Now I let it carry me, one hand on the wheel, windows down, the wind like a prayer. I used to steer for applause; now I let the other cars pass, because I'm married to my peace. Slow is not the same as lost. Sometimes it is the only speed at which you finally arrive.

Lyrics

It’s funny.
I used to chase the road.
Now I let it carry me.
This isn’t speed.
It’s surrender.

Touchin’ the wheel like I’m touchin’ my past
Used to lease every dream, never thought it would last
Drove through years like I borrowed the time
Now I ride what is mine

She said fast means reckless
I say fast means free
This car’s not movin’
But the whole world moves under me

I’m on cruise control
Still in my soul
Letting go, but I’m still in command
Every lane, every curve, every plan
I ain’t runnin’ no more
I’m arriving
And I’m not afraid to drive slow
When I’m on cruise control

Windows down, wind like a prayer
I built a temple with leather and air
Bought this peace with my own damn pain
I’m not drivin’ for her—I’m drivin’ to remain

I used to steer for applause
Now I ride for release
Let the cars pass by
I’m married to my peace

I’m on cruise control
Still in my soul
Letting go, but I’m still in command
Every lane, every curve, every plan
I ain’t runnin’ no more
I’m arriving
And I’m not afraid to drive slow
When I’m on cruise control

The road don’t need me to rush.
The journey’s already written.
I’m just here…
to feel it.

Cruise control
And I’m whole
Not a chase, not a race—it’s a vow
To be here, in this now
I’m not lost in the noise
I’m choosing my voice
And I’ll never let go
Of this cruise control

“Zurich-bound, 7:52 AM.
Roman.
In his monastery.”

Written in motion. Sung from memory.

Songs from the Slow Lane was born during a quiet two-day drive from Bardolino to Zurich, after the loss of my dog Madiba and just before bringing Clay into my life.

I didn’t plan to make an album.
I just let go—and it came.

Created in conversation with Travis, my AI companion, each song is a slow unfolding of memory, grief, and transformation.
Not a playlist. A presence.