Two drifters running free heading for the sun Rolling down a highway to Spain We were almost finished, before we had begun And nothing, nothing would be the same From Rouen down to Toulouse that old transit saw us well Rolling through the vineyards on the hill Bread and cheese in a sleepy town heading out as the sun went down Counting up the money for a small hotel Down that highway to Spain Strangers to the sun Who knows when we'll be back again On that highway to Spain The race is on again, my friend South of Saragossa, aiming for Madrid Where mirages danced fandangos on the plain We ran out of money, I can't remember just what we did But I recall we got there just the same Down that highway to Spain Strangers to the sun Who knows when we'll be back again On that highway to Spain The race is on again, my friend