I'm wheels, I am moving wheels
I am a 1952 studebaker coupe
I'm wheels, I am moving wheels moving wheels
I am a 1952 starlite coupe
En route, les Souterrains
Des visions du Cody, Sartori a Paris
Strange spaghetti in this solemn city
There's a postcard we're all seen before
Past wild-haired teens in dark clothing
With hands-full of autographed napkins we
Eat apples in vans with sandwiches, rush
Into the lobby life of hurry up and wait
Hurry up and wait for all the odd-shaped keys
Which lead to new soap and envelopes
Hotel room homesickness on a fresh blue bed
And the longest-ever phone call home, no
Sleep no sleep no sleep no sleep and no mad
Video machine to eat time, a cityscene
I can't explain, the Seine alone at 4AM
The Seine alone at 4AM, Neal and Jack and me