| Cruising down the highway
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| Indianapolis bound
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| The sun is out, shades are on
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| But the gig still can’t be found
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| As we gaze out of the window
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| See fields and barns float up
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| A psycho in a beat up Chevy
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| Got us in his evil eye
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| Hit the deck, hit the deck
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| The gun I fear, not the redneck
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| He tried to run us off the road
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| 'cos we broke his law
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| It’s hard to say what gun he had
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| I was lying on the floor
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| Terror reigned, no need to panic
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| Whizz Pig’s at the wheel !
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| Stops the van in front of him
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| Goes and strikes a deal
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| . |
| I’m just a poor boy, a long way from home
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| Don’t wanna' die here, I’m all alone
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| If I ever get out of this place, get out of this jam
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| Go home and die on the sanctuary of Birmingham
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| This crazy with a baseball cap
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| Has been working in a foreign land
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| Learned to live in the jungle
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| Learned to kill with his bare hands
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| Bringing his skills back to civilisation
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| Running to the police
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| Mister I abhor your kind.
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| An' I ain’t no goddam freak ! |