Gas Station Proprietor: Is somethin' wrong? Anton Chigurh: With what? Gas Station Proprietor: With anything? Anton Chigurh: Is that what you're asking me? Is there something wrong with anything? Must have got like Every red light On my way home On my way home My hands froze It's so cold And these walls I can't stand anymore With bulbs blown And doors that never close But these floors Speak a langauge of their own And if they talked I'd hate to hear them talk And if they talked And if they talked This could be the tragedy that we've been waiting for Don't remember, Don't remember my name This could be the tragedy that we've been waiting for Don't remember, Don't remember my name