You'll have to pry my cold, dead hands from this wagon.
When the wheels fall off then we'll just have to drag it...
through the desert, the snow, through the streets.
Any way that you feel, mama, rock me to sleep
under the oak tree, under lock and key,
under my feet - a 24 karat gleam.
Do electric sheep dream of alchemy?
Will this iron mask help my iron deficiency?
Keep the pace, keep your heart on fire.
Keep up the chase, keep your hand on the lighter.
They can't see in your lane, they're all wearing blinders
so shoot straight, shoot out their tires!
So we rode a few times over the horizon
til the wheels fell off, til we fell off the wagon.
Not a penny to our name, not a cricket to our soul.
Set the GPS to avoid the high road.
Drink to the gills and fire at will.
If you get yourself killed, leave me the rest in your will.
Then I'll drink to the gills and when i've had my fill,
I'll push your wheel-less wagon to the end of the trail.
I love it. Have to agree with still bummed: this packs an emotional punch but rocks hard. I've played this whole album repeatedly over the last week which is unusual for me. Exhilarating, poignant, intelligent, melodic. Robin Ward
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