I have to get the hell outta Texas, just like I had to get the hell outta Connecticut all those months ago. Or has it been years?
Describes so much of my life.
And it finds me sitting here by the side of this dusty road, sweating my ass off in the hot sun. I never was bright enough to sit in the shade. Sold my junker of a car for road money; wouldn't have made it twenty miles down the road, anyway.
I stick out my thumb whenever a decent-looking car goes by. I feel like a jackass.
At first, it looks like you're gonna pass me by, but you don't. Just stop, and wait for me to come to you.
"Where ya goin'?"
You have an angel face and devil eyes, and I smile at you.
"Anywhere but here."