This ain’t just any old highway, this is the blues turnpike.

Banish those spirits that are watching from the woods / rip out that devil lurking under the hood.

I’m running away from the past and I don’t want to know the future.

The era is over for thinking small / From this point forward, we’re thinking bigger.

What's there to explain, it's a driver's life.

The end of the trip / All the way from New Jersey to California.

What sort of universal truth do I seek in these desert sands / What sort of private epiphany will I find?

And the road keeps on going and the beast keeps on rolling / Until I’m up and over the Great Divide.

Not the usual “Shabbos” that I don’t roll for / But still an opportunity to loosen my load.

I’ll sing my blues ‘cuz I’ll have paid my dues / So let me say, amen.

Strange things are happening / As I head deeper west.

Arise, and cross this land / Its whole length surveyed, its whole breadth spanned.

An emotional traffic report

speed it up, Jack / why do you keep on creeping / like you got nowhere to go?

Coaxing a ton of aging automobile / From Dead Bank and Ocean Grave all the way to Warkyland ...