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