Cruising down the highway,
Indianapolis bound.
The sun is out, shades are on,
but the gig still can`t be found.
As we gaze out of the window,
see fields and barns float up.
A psycho in a beat up Chevy,
got us in his evil eye.
Hit the deck, hit the deck.
The gun I fear, not the redneck.
He tried to run us off the road,
`cos we broke his law.
It`s hard to say what gun he had,
I was lying on the floor.
Terror reigned, no need to panic,
Whizz Pig`s at the wheel !
Stops the van in front of him,
goes and strikes a deal.
.. I`m just a poor boy, a long way from home.
Don`t wanna` die here, I`m all alone.
If I ever get out of this place, get out of this jam.
Go home and die on the sanctuary of Birmingham.
This crazy with a baseball cap,
has been working in a foreign land.
Learned to live in the jungle,
learned to kill with his bare hands.
Bringing his skills back to civilisation,
running to the police.
Mister I abhor your kind ..
an` I ain`t no goddam freak !