convertible blues
Thunder’s rattling the walls.
Lightning’s taken the last tree.
Fog feels like a trawler
That’s dragging us out to sea.
Been living in a tunnel way too long.
Rooster is crowing at high noon.
Coffee is one spoon away from sweetness
But we ain’t got a spoon.
Gonna get the car off the blocks.
Rip off the rusted-out chrome.
Put in hole-buster shocks.
And get ready to roll for home.
I’m gonna get it off them cinder blocks.
Pour in a gallon of antiknock.
Cut the top off the car till I’m done
And ride to glory in the sun.
Don’t dare say one more word in this house.
It’s one whisper away from collapse.
Put on your traveling side button blouse.
Put on our three hubcaps.
Don’t know where we’re going to.
Not sure where we’re coming from.
But this much I can tell you.
I’ll cut the top off the car till I’m done
And ride to glory in the sun.
We swore we’d fight this thing together
And reach that solitary light.
The seats may be imitation leather but
We’re going to do at least one thing right.
Gonna cut off the top of the car,
Drive under that high noon star,
Take a six-pack of fun
And ride to glory in the sun.
Ride all the way to glory in the sun.