the highway's open and the sun is full
and the hot old upholstry heats up like wasted wool
the hills roll past us, then they rear up again
take a deep breath now, and count to ten
i reach across the the stick shift and i pull you in
the highway's open and it's hot in here,
it's hot in here.
your skin sends all the sunlight back to hell
and the ?style in the coming darkness? and i guess it's just as well
but there's noone left.
there's noone left at all.
and then the hils behind your eyes
start burning like a solid wall
i'm thinking maize
bitter and red and clear
the highway's open and it's hot in here,
it's hot in here.