| He found himself waiting again. | |
| Out at the crossroads, out on the lam. | |
| This time not running, this time by right. | |
| A road-side hitcher waits for headlights. | |
| "The blues won't bring me down." | |
| That pick-up truck stopped. "Where you headed, kid?" | |
| "Back to the boardwalk coast to fix the wrong I did." | |
| That old man would bring him just as far as he could. | |
| His hellhound sniffing out for a trace of any good. | |
| The hope he's chasing. | |
| The blues he carried are dead and buried. |
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