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Mystery Spot

The Frisk


My baby and I are headed to the pass
Seventy miles an hour we're hauling ass
Jackalopes outside flash ebony eyes
Roll down the window to hear the coyote cries

Says we're real real gone on the roadsign
Hundreds of miles Unlimited time
Frisco Chicago New York why not?
Alaska to Juarez, there's our mystery spot

Can't get no stations we're too far out
Headlights blind then they're miles past
The silent rushing road under the wheel
The dark and the tailights and the silence heal

We got no destination our means is the end
Following our road there's never a dead end
Wind in the face and traveling on the brain
Asphalt dreams keep us in the fast lane

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