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 rear-view mirror was a silhouette,
Then I heard the door-locks take a dive and a whisper screamed, "Don't turn around, just drive"
Dressed in red, pointy tail and horn-rimmed head, and a widow's peak like Eddie Munster,
I sat frozen in my seat: "Ahem, 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.
"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."
If this is a nasty dream I'd prefer to wake up here,
I believe the point is clear.
"Out of my car."
He said, "Ha, I've come too far, besides I kinda 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, please.
I started humming Amazing Grace,
He said, "Come on, boy, give me a break,"
So I hit the brakes with both my feet and sent two horns through the bucket seats,
Then the locks shot up as the grace came down, I said, "Here's the keys, I'll be walking back to town."