The bar next door
To the gas station
Is my gas station.

In dim light pouring smoke
From their throats, a thousand cars
And a thousand dented
Wanderers¡­ pull up together
For a night of carousing.

I am one who sits moodily
Ragged voice tired from singing,
Too broke to buy a glass
When the thirst hits.

For which the bargirl deprives me
Of my crucial working part.
In the fit I wrench the wrists
Of three people trying to steer me.

And it gets darker.
The highway's eyes are blind,
White flash of headlights under my brow,
I'm out alone one the road tonight.