Tác giả : Tom Waits
Người đăng : administrator, 14 năm trước
Diamonds on my windshield 
Tears from heaven 
Pulling into town on the interstate 
Pulling a steel train in the rain 
The wind bites my cheek through the wing 
Fast flying, freway driving 
Always makes me sing 
 
There's a duster tryin' to change my tune 
Pulling up fast on the right 
Rolling restlessly, twenty-four hour moon 
 
Wisconsin hiker with a cue-ball head 
Wishing he was home in a wiscosin bed 
Fifteen feet of snow in the east 
Colder then a welldigger's ass 
 
Oceanside it ends the ride, san clemente coming up 
Sunday desperadoes slip by, gas station closed, 
Cruise with a dry back 
Orange drive-in the neon billin' 
Theatre's fillin' to the brim 
Slave girls and a hot spurn bucket full of sin 
 
Metropolitan area with interchange and connections 
Fly-by-nights from riverside 
Black and white plates, out of state, 
Running a little bit late 
 
Sailors jockey for the fast lane 
101 don't miss it 
Rolling hills and concrete fields 
The broken line's on your mind 
 
Eights go east and the fives go north 
The merging nexus back and forth 
You see your sign, cross the line, 
Signalling with a blink 
 
The radio's gone off the air 
Gives you time to think 
You ease it out and you creep across 
Intersection light goes out 
You hear the rumble 
As you fumble for a cigarette 
Blazing through this midnight jungle 
Remember someone that you met 
One more block; the engine talks 
And whispers 'home at last' 
It whispers, whispers, whispers 
'home at last', home at last