| jack was sittin poker faced with bullets backed with bitches
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| neal hunched at the wheel puttin everyone in stiches
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| braggin bout this nurse he screwed while drivin through nebraska
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| and when she came she honked the horn and neal just barely missed a
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| truck and then he asked her if she’d like to come like that to californy
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| see a red head in a uniform will always get you horny
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| with her hairnet and those white shoes and a name tag and a hat
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| she drove like andy granatelli and knew how to fix a flat
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| and jack was almost at the bottom of his md 2020 neal was yellin
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| out the window tryin to buy some bennies from a lincoln
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| full of mexicans whose left rear tire blowed and the sonsobitches
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| prit near almost ran off the road
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| well the nurse had spilled the manoshevitz all up and down her dress
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| then she lit the map on fire neal just had to guess
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| should we try and find a bootleg route or a fillin station open
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| the nurse was dumpin out her purse lookin for an envelope and
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| jack was out of cigarettes we crossed the yellow line
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| the gas pumps looked like tombstones from here
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| felt lonelier than a parking lot when the last car pulls away
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| and the moonlight dressed the double breasted foothills
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| in the mirror weaving outa negligee and a black brassiere
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| the mercury was runnin hot and almost out of gas
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| just then florence nightingale dropped her drawers and
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| stuck her fat ass half way out of the window with a
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| wilson pickett tune
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| and shouted get a load of this and gave the finger to the moon
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| countin one eyed jacks and whistling dixie in the car
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| neal was doin least a hundred when we saw a fallin star
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| florence wished that neal would hold her stead of chewin
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| his cigar jack was noddin out and dreamin he was in a bar
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| with charlie parker on the bandstand not a worry in the world
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| and a glass of beer in one hand and his arm around a girl
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| and neal was singin to the nurse
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| underneath a harlem moon
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| and somehow you could just tell we’d be in california soon |