John was always in the middle of things, catching air to say, “hey, I'll race you. Set some gear aside. And, hey, I'll save you a space to rest our wheels and face sixteen together.” Tyler was right in the middle of things, like a lonely Saturday. But, hey, some friends called. They set a seat aside and, hey, after all, maybe the road will rise. The engine's turning over. So we get caught in the middle of things. We rip and roll and maybe don't sense these red lights. The traffic grinds. We maybe don't feel that incline, but rest assured until the boys come cross us over.