A white ghost, making his way up the west coast

Trying to focus his high hopes on a vagina or two

He's taking his chances

Meanwhile, back in his living room

Bright smiles are watching his toddler run speed trials

Over a grandmother's rug

And nature advances


Up the interstate

He's been awake

And pretty drunk for three whole days

No one wants to stop

Until they get to where they're going

I'll get to where I'm going pretty soon


So he takes another drink

'Cause watching the scenery bleed

Into each similar scene

Isn't as sweet as it had been in his dreams


It's faster to buy cigarettes and some cold beer

If you don't rattle the cashier

By asking her back to your room

She's calling security


Our car's on fire in the parking lot

And nobody wants it to rain

But God isn't listening

So all of the windshields glisten

The water and oil mix

Causing the fire to spread

To five or six innocent automobiles

Waiting in their nearby spots

What a cruel God we've got


Right on, right on, right on

Right on, right on

Right on, right on, right on

Right on, right on


So he takes another drink

'Cause watching the formula bleed

Into each similar thing

Isn't as sweet as it had been in his dreams