Sun On Black Vinyl

Mountains in the rearview
Insects smashed against the glass
They are baking and not frying in the middle of Nebraska
I am drinking boiling water from a bottle on the floor
And the cheese I bought in Boulder is now dripping out

They said it hit one-o-six but it felt like one-o-nine
I'm just sitting in this hot seat with my secrets
Breathing fire is no big deal when flames are in your diet
But it takes its toll on stomach tongue and teeth


I'm holding the wheel
It's steering me on
Sun on black vinyl moves everything up a notch

I had a grand slam at the Country Kitchen
Is there a rest room up ahead?
Point of interest, wishful thinking, twenty bucks a bed
The mile signs play solitaire with no regard to me
And the tape plays Burroughs reading because his voice relaxes



I know I say all things at all times
All things so slow
This day may go on for the rest of my life

The weather went on a little crime spree
In Chicago, five hundred died
It brought us all a little closer with a touch of civic pride
It took our minds off other heat, war stories and hot air
My mind was wandering, keeping cool
In the dry Alaskan air

I think too much and pick a point
And spit another hair
I share a laugh
The thermos is my friend
My mind is playing solitaire with no regard to me
I hear a symphony of interstate and wind