One laydown machine burned a road,
right through the prairie,
stream of boiling ash painted up with perfect lines,
discount labor packing each lane,
bargain basement homes sewn to the road,
slipshod directions do not explain.
I got these shoes for nothing
and they have lasted me forever,
searching up and down the lost highway.
I can read the grid,
I have memorized the key,
counting every inch from C-4 to J-3,
I can think in scale
'cause I know it ain't on my map,
scraping off the typeset,
dig into the atlas.
Well they can paint it up,
make it appear to go somewhere,
well they can paint it up,
but I know where it doesn't lead.