A white ghost, making his way up the west coast Trying to focus his high hopes on a vagina or two He's taking his chances Meanwhile, back in his living room Bright smiles are watching his toddler run speed trials Over a grandmother's rug And nature advances Up the interstate He's been awake And pretty drunk for three whole days No one wants to stop Until they get to where they're going I'll get to where I'm going pretty soon So he takes another drink 'Cause watching the scenery bleed Into each similar scene Isn't as sweet as it had been in his dreams It's faster to buy cigarettes and some cold beer If you don't rattle the cashier By asking her back to your room She's calling security Our car's on fire in the parking lot And nobody wants it to rain But God isn't listening So all of the windshields glisten The water and oil mix Causing the fire to spread To five or six innocent automobiles Waiting in their nearby spots What a cruel God we've got Right on, right on, right on Right on, right on Right on, right on, right on Right on, right on So he takes another drink 'Cause watching the formula bleed Into each similar thing Isn't as sweet as it had been in his dreams