| Ribbons went flying out the window
|
| As we drove down the interstate
|
| Sex was something so brand new
|
| It was hard as hell to wait
|
| She made faces at the goddamn rednecks
|
| And said «Look at you boy, you must worship Satan»
|
| Just because I had the same long hair
|
| As the Jesus in all their paintings
|
| Every church just made me scared
|
| Of words like servant and faith and congregation
|
| In a world with so many answers left
|
| Why do I need so many explanations
|
| To get closer to the truth and further from the sky
|
| And the static singes the speakers
|
| Like a thousand hymns of inspiration
|
| The road just winds through the canyon
|
| Like a big black snake headed for salvation
|
| And I’m getting closer to the truth and further from the sky
|
| A roadside venue with paper menus
|
| In a town that forgot its own name
|
| We were hungry for anything that had a pulse
|
| As we freed ourselves from the rain
|
| There’s a disgruntled metalhead playing guitar
|
| For a pop singer up on the screen
|
| With his guitar held high and his head held low
|
| He just wants a chance to be seen
|
| And the static singes the speakers
|
| Like a thousand hymns of inspiration
|
| The road just winds through the canyon
|
| Like a big black snake headed for salvation
|
| And I’m getting closer to the truth and further from the sky
|
| Well he tells me at the bar
|
| That’s he on his last leg
|
| That he used to have it all in his hands
|
| That the girls don’t think much of him these days
|
| It’s just hard for him to understand
|
| Cause he’s a little bit older and a little bit thin
|
| But he’s still got his heart in a sling
|
| And we paid for the drinks and the bartender drinks
|
| And it couldn’t be more late, yeah we’re all so late
|
| And the static singes the speakers
|
| Like a thousand hymns of inspiration
|
| The road just winds through the canyon
|
| Like a big black snake headed for salvation
|
| And I’m getting closer to the truth and further from the sky |