10th Street don't run in a straight line
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We played on the part we couldn't find
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And a musky old man, had a cup in his hand
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He's the unofficial doorman, he helped flag down the cabs
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The snow started light, we thinking about home
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But thinking was by far the closest we'd get, we're alone
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And what I had planned for the next couple days
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Nothing more than a wish, still a phone call away
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So we headed west, an our felt like four
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'Til we had to sleep or just couldn't see anymore
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And the man on the corner, was probably home, it was late
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And we were stranded on the highway at the Frederick, Super 8
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(Lost on the highway, I ain;t never going back...no, no, no)
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10 inches, twelve, fifteen, twenty-four
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Then the cable went out, we just sang songs then got bored
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Tempers were short when the food it got thin
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We walked a half a mile to the buffet, at the Holiday Inn
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|
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Six hours turned to twelve, and twelve to forty-eight
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We watched the gypsy's take shelter when they closed the interstate
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We spoke of Civil War, Pulp Fiction, and our escape
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Everything was shut down, but for that Frederick, Super 8
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(Don't apologize, just give me my fuckin' sandwich)
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Lost on the highway on the side of the road
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Kicking your feet up to lighten the load
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There was a contest of manhood and there was no debate
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Oh six lonely, lonely, lonely men¡Šat that Frederick, Super 8
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(It rhymes with 'debate'....I ain't never going back)
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-----------------
|
The Blizzard
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| The Clarks |
