Hitchin' a ride (don't know where to go) One, two, three, four There's a drought at the fountain of youth My tongue is swelling up Troubled times You know I cannot lie I'm off the wagon and I'm hitchin' a ride Hey mister, where you headed? Are you in a

Shaped yellow light And it picks you up And cuts you down to size In the painted faces congregate In the mating season The seconds homes They go alone In no rush leave 'em And there's a fountain