Текст песни Another American Road Movie - Pearl Diver

Hey Charlie, there's been a small accident outside on the front porch
I spilt your powder, it's all washed out in the rain
And I don't think I can stand it here in Minnesota, I hate the traffic
I might just have to hit on the black top again...

But my flat-bed croaked last Thursday
After a couple hundred thousand clicks
I bought it from some old Cherokee on a sad reservation
James Taylor and Stevie Nicks sweet on the radio
Tyres as bald as an eagle I should have changed them years ago
But after I was stopped by that customs beagle in arrivals
I've been laying kinda low just injecting myself out of the pain
And I can't stand it here in Minnesota
I might just have to hit on the black top again...

But do you think Bill Burroughs really shot his wife?
Back in the 50's or the 60's?
And when exactly was it that "Nighthawks in the diner" was painted?
I was gonna read up on it yesterday but then I got waylaid in some other diner
By an old Vietnamese eating noodles and shrimp
And we laughed and smoked tea
And he asked me if I'd ever tried guacamole?
Huh, guacamole in a Vietnamese accent!
Now that is something pretty damn hard to swallow
And had I actually ever seen that photograph of Marilyn Monroe and Oh...
Shit, shit, shit, it's just started to rain
And I can't stand it here in Minnesota
I might just have to hit on the black top again...

But I've just met this Dolores chick from Albuquerque
She's gotta tattoo of the crucifixion all the way along her inside thigh
Well, what the hell is all that about?
Some kind of subliminal statement
I don't know, she wasn't about to explain
She'd spent the day collecting oranges
She said she loved the colour of the mould as it grew on the skin
All green, blue and silver furry
We went out walking past the 'Five-n-dime', past the '7-Eleven'
Drinking Tequila from a hip flask
We drunk one over the eight, we were out for the count, we'd been knocked for six
She'd been turning tricks on the corner of Madison
And we both talked about those wide mid-western plains
And how, maybe tomorrow
We might just both hit on the black top again...

Oh Charlie, Dolores, Marilyn, Billy Boy
That black top winds forever
With its white lines continually going some place
And we, my fair em-buggered buddies, with our different white lines... are just forever going no place
We're just walking in the rain, smoking tea, eating enchilada's
And some damn Vietnamese has started simmering me up noodles again
And nothin' ever happens in the world of junk...

Step inside to the old icehouse
Shift up sister, move up brother, just shuffle up a little
'Cos there's always room for another
There's no place for the ebb and flow
It's just a rising tide
And shuffle up babies 'cos there's always room for another one inside

And you've got cancelled eyes like the necessary last bus
You're just CANCELLED! CANCELLED! CANCELLED! CANCELLED!
You've got cancelled eyes, let it burn you up baby
You god-damn useless punk
'Cos nothin' ever happens in that world of junk
And what's the frequency Charlie boy for 10 years in a trunk
'Cos nothin' ever happens in that world of junk...