We got road, we got time, so we're out of here
We got rows, we got rows as far as we can see
In the dust we can see your catastrophe
Shining dimly like a mud slick in the sun

Sparks fly from their eyes
Birds fly from their mouths
Echoing off this procession is a sound
Never to be found

With a tip of the hat we would exit here
Off you go with a pie on your face
Down the road we can see the electric chair
Who'll be the first? I don't know, it's a race

With a drop of the fly we should exit here
Off you go with the crumbs on your face
One-eyed clown in the road with electric hair
At his best he's a total disgrace

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Curtis Mathew Kirkwood