Seventeen degrees.
Crystal clear above and pitch black ahead.
No signs, no billboards, no nothing.
Just high-beam headlights blasting like shotguns
over the never-ending snake of asphalt
as thick heat rolls through the black plastic vents,
a fevered preacher rails through the radio
and the green ticks of the gauges glow on chapped knuckles.
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POP!
11 years ago
1 comment:
Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel
Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel
Yeah, we're goin' to the Roadhouse
We're gonna have a real
Good time
Yeah, back at the Roadhouse they got some bungalows
Yeah, back at the Roadhouse they got some bungalows
And that's for the people
Who like to go down slow
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, all night long
...Roadhouse blues
--Jim Morrison(The Doors)
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