The air is trembling
Everyone’s sleeping in the back of the bus
Sun is rising
Rolling down the window, light a lucky strike, uh
And in my imagination We get stopped by this lonely cop
He pull me down the ditch, pull my hair, and the air is hot
I need one for the road
I need one for the road
Sweat is weeping down on my steering wheel
a pot of coffee boiling in the waste lands heat
And in my hallucination we pick up this hitch hiking boy
I throw him to the lions back seat
Making sound to the loud car stereo