One laydown machine 

Burned a road 

Right through the prairie 

Stream of boiling ash 

Painted up with perfect lines 

Discount labor packing 

Each lane 

Bargain basement homes 

Sewn to the road 

Slipshod directions 

Do not explain 



I got these shoes for nothing 

And they have lasted me forever 

Searching up and down the lost highway 



I can read the grid 

I have memorized the key 

Counting every inch 

From C-4 to J-3 

I can think in scale 

'Cause I know it ain't 

On my map 

Scraping off the typeset 

Dig into the atlas 



Well they can paint it up 

Make it appear to go somewhere 

Well they can paint it up 

But I know where it doesn't lead