i will never drive 80
not 80 ever again
79 fine, 81 alright
i will never drive 80 again
i walked up to the ladies' man
shook his hand
asked who and what he is doing tonight
i cope with the smell of the crash
sniff its leaking gas and crisp rubber
Oh if the pavement weren't so hard
the drinks not so hard
the liquor not so hard
this wouldnt be so
i fade the painted lines
on the roadside
with my bike tires
and get to thinking...
i dont know how the four wheels landed
upright or not, in the groove
i dont know the other two
the ones hooked to the tubes.
i want to know the Quick-Trip, clean-cut, confessions of his bedside
did he pray at night?
did i influence him in any way?
should i be saying the things im saying?
why did his mind tick so damn loud?
the class clown, he laughed i smiled
this may take some time
he ticked and tuned to the prettiest girls' footsteps
i never knew such
i should have known such
i guess what im asking is
is it wrong to live on the edge?
You had no seat belt across your fucking chest.