Drive, He Said

On a desert road that steamed the sky
With the windows up and the air on high
I was off the stage, I was on the mend
With a solo drive to a holiday weekend
My thirsty car came to a stop
At the Reptile Gardens Curio Shop
When a wind came hissing through the vents
And I felt my sneakers growing tense
My forehead broke in a cold, cold sweat
In the rearview mirror was a silhouette
Then I heard the doorlocks take a dive
And a whisper screamed, "Don't turn around, just drive"

Scratch! Dressed in red
Pointy tail and a horn-rimmed head
And a widow's peak like Eddie Munster
I sat frozen in my seat
"We haven't had the chance to meet
Are you a singing telegram or something?
He just flashed a hellish smile
"Let's go driving for a while."
He held something in his hand I'd never seen before
It was my Chevrolet's pink slip

Scratch! Evil eye!
"Step on it, boy, if you want to stay alive," he said
"Don't look surprised, you know what I want
I've lived for years inside your trunk
So drive,
" he said.
"Let's get talking business, Son
You ain't fooling anyone
I know just what you want to be
Now it's time to work for me
So drive
," he said

If this is a nasty dream
I'd prefer to wake up here
I believe the point is clear

"Scratch! Out of my car!"
He said, "Ha! I've come too far!
Besides, I kind of like the velour seat covers.
"God, help me! What do I do?"
"Shut up, boy, it's too late for you!
Now drive!
All you phonies get it wrong
Double-lives take half as long
Should have kept your windows clean
Now I'm part of this machine
You've got a good 80,000 miles left
Before the recall.

If this is a nasty dream
I believe the point's quite clear
I'd prefer to wake up here

I started humming, "Amazing Grace"
He said, "Come on, boy, give me a break."
So I hit the brakes with both my feet
And I sent two horns through the bucket seat
Then the locks shot up as the grace came down
I said, "Here's the keys. I'll be walking back to town."

Written by Steve Taylor © 1985 Birdwing Music/C.A. Music (ASCAP)

Taylor says, "This 'devil went down to Barstow' fable probably had its roots in my roots, which included numerous family vacations travelling through New Mexico and Arizona on Route 66."
(Taken from liner notes to "Now The Truth Can Be Told")

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