I hate the taste of cigarettes and I can’t write about anything outside my own head
I’m sick to death of dealings with devils
The moon is full and the night is young and I’m sitting here alone one candle lit took my last hit and there’s nowhere left to go
The tall man wearing sweater shoes is sweating and huffing and singing the blues and he knows we got to choose which car were driving
The evening breeze grazes my knees and I ask please for harmonies cos the only thing that can get me through this unrest is singing
So let’s pack it up hit the road I got so many secrets that ain’t been told let’s get out of the city and into some trouble soon
I want the wind in my hair and I want to bear the truth that’s inside you that eats you up alive
Well put on some tunes we can sing along to and trace the reflection on wetness
As the tears fall down your face both ready for the warm embrace of nighttime swallowing ya whole
Let the cold damp air release your soul
Forget yourself now that’s the goal
Let’s just keep on riding