Rolling By

(álbum: No Kinda Dancer - 1984)

It's a busted old town on the plains of West Texas.
The drugstore's closed down, and the river's run dry.
The semis roll through like stainless steel stallions
Going hard, going fast, going wild
Rolling hard, rolling fast, rolling by.

And the mission still stands at the edge of the plateau.
A stone marks the graves where the old cowboys lie.
Asleep in a time, in a town just a youngster
Going hard, going fast, going wild
Rolling hard, rolling fast, rolling by.

And the drive-in don't play no Friday night picture.
No big silver screen to light up the sky.
Gone are the days of post-war-time lovers
Going hard, going fast, going wild
Rolling hard, rolling fast, rolling by.

And me, I stand here at the last filling station
Where the wind moans a dirge to the coyote's cry.
I jump in my car; I'm back out on the highway
Going hard, going fast, going wild
Rolling hard, rolling fast, rolling by
Going hard, going fast, going wild
Rolling hard, rolling fast, rolling by