Diamonds on my windshield

Tears from heaven

Pulling into town on the Interstate

Pulling a steel train in the rain

The wind bites my cheek through the wing

Fast flying, freway driving

Always makes me sing



There's a Duster tryin' to change my tune

Pulling up fast on the right

Rolling restlessly, twenty-four hour moon



Wisconsin hiker with a cue-ball head

Wishing he was home in a Wiscosin bed

fifteen feet of snow in the East

Colder then a welldigger's ass



Oceanside it ends the ride, San Clemente coming up

Sunday desperadoes slip by, gas station closed, cruise with a dry back

Orange drive-in the neon billin'

Theatre's fillin' to the brim

Slave girls and a hot spurn bucket full of sin



Metropolitan area with interchange and connections

Fly-by-nights from Riverside

Black and white plates, out of state, running a little bit late



Sailors jockey for the fast lane

101 don't miss it

Rolling hills and concrete fields

The broken line's on your mind



Eights go east and the fives go north

The merging nexus back and forth

You see your sign, cross the line, signalling with a blink



The radio's gone off the air

Gives you time to think

You ease it out and you creep across

Intersection light goes out

You hear the rumble

As you fumble for a cigarette

Blazing through this midnight jungle

Remember someone that you met

One more block; the engine talks

And whispers 'home at last'

It whispers, whispers, whispers 'home at last', home at last