| [00:47.14] |
Photographs of the best time you had, |
| [00:52.27] |
windows smugded by the speed. |
| [00:58.61] |
Leaving home with our bags from Iron Street, |
| [01:03.67] |
as morning turned into California, |
| [01:08.49] |
And smoke trailed from the butt of my cigarette. |
| [01:17.28] |
|
| [01:21.36] |
Our glass house it threw rocks at all those it past. |
| [01:30.30] |
|
| [01:39.65] |
Waking up to the sound of 5 A.M. to take my turn at the wheel. |
| [01:50.16] |
Climbed up Shasta, oh how the engine ached |
| [01:54.72] |
as the sun tortured California, |
| [02:00.13] |
and old alleys turned deep at the heart of me. |
| [02:10.42] |
Murals of heros defacing the blank concrete. |
| [02:26.70] |
|
| [02:32.06] |
Vision tunneled, Mission Street, hunger beat |
| [02:35.38] |
lodged out as the engine wheezed. |
| [02:40.80] |
Still moving regardless of stable ground |
| [02:46.92] |
and this stable ground. |
| [02:54.73] |
|
| [03:03.92] |
Photographs of the best time you had, |
| [03:08.36] |
windows smugded by the speed. |
| [03:14.61] |
Leaving home with our bags from Iron street |
| [03:20.12] |
as morning turned into California. |
