Past exit nine on the interstate
there's a little joint called the Pearly Gates;
A roadside inn for the down-and-out
where raising Hell is what they deem devout.
I made my way across the room,
felt the heavy weight of impending doom.
Walked upon the red hot coals
to test my faith and save my soul.
I'm trying to get to Heaven in a Cadillac.
My chariot's a big ol' Coupe De Ville.
When the road you choose leads you to Hell and back,
if you don't take the wheel, the devil will.
There at the bar to send me back to school
was a dirty blonde playing dirty pool.
She gave me a wink, fed me a line,
poured me a drink of blood-red wine.
I'm trying to get to Heaven in a Cadillac.
Fuzzy dice and El Dorado fins.
She said, "Can I offer you an aphrodisiac?"
I said, "Girl, you don't know where this boy has been."
In the back of the room sat a bearded man
with a fat cigar and a sleight of hand.
He waved his cane and flashed his eyes
in a last attempt to hypnotize.
I'm trying to get to Heaven in a Cadillac.
Top down and the wind through my hair.
He said, "Boy, I get the feeling you'll be coming back."
I said, "Not if there's an answer to my prayers."
I'm trying to get to Heaven in a Cadillac.
I'm trying to get to Heaven in a Cadillac.
If you don't take the wheel, the devil will.