My heart retires far early Away these foreign lands She's a gentle bell, she's a cat eye A gold breath on a wire A sing soft sail in the other room A red hot cleansing fire My cold feet warm in a straight line Dancing Spanish Hands She's a yellow girl,

We had a bottle of silver And a bottle of sapphire An Indian blanket And a beachfront bonfire We watched the moon We hit that liquor store By the county line Whipped out a fake ID I got from a friend of mine

I'm a hard, hard workin man I got it all on the line For a peace of the promised land I'm burnin' my candle at both ends 'Bout the only way to keep the fire goin' Is to outrun the wind I'm a hard workin' man I wear a steel hard hat I can ride, rope,

Baby run, cut a path across the blue skies Straight in a straight line You can't get here fast enough Find a truck and fire it up Lean on the gas and off the clutch Leave Dallas in the dust I need you in a rush So baby run

Baby run, cut a path across the blue skies Straight in a straight line You can't get here fast enough Find a truck and fire it up Lean on the gas and off the clutch Leave Dallas in the dust I need you in a rush So baby run

So when the waves come rolling in Then I won't turn the tide And in the line of fire You'll set me aside So go on Richard let go On our last trip to the coast We watched the boats sail the sea "How effortlessly they float" You turned and said to me

I'm sitting by a bonfire watching her swaying Me and my buddies and the guitar playing Sipping on forties on a Saturday night Buzzing through a chorus of Dixieland Delight Back through my mind like smoke She was smoking hot, a whiskey shot, a cherry Coke

Baby run, cut a path across the blue skies Straight in a straight line You can't get here fast enough Find a truck and fire it up Lean on the gas and off the clutch Leave Dallas in the dust I need you in a rush So baby run

On my way at last The caravan thunders onward I can't stop thinking big In a world lit only by fire Long train of flares under piercing stars I stand watching the steamliners roll by To the distant dream of the city The caravan carries me onward On a

Leaving or dead, always ahead, fed by your dread First in the line of fire, first into hostile land They are the panzer elite, born to compete, never retreat (ghost division) Tanks leading the way, leading the way Thus earning their name, earning the