Cold coffee in a plastic cup
Wait for the morning sun to come up
Grease on my apron, salt on the grill
The world out there is standing stone still
Leather gloves counting every pace
Looking for a ghost of a hidden place
Past the drive-in where the screen fell down
Walking out the borders of this dying town
Regulars come and they take their seat
Wiping the mud from their heavy feet
I flip the burgers and I pour the brew
Counting the minutes until I am through
Leather gloves counting every pace
Looking for a ghost of a hidden place
Past the drive-in where the screen fell down
Walking out the borders of this dying town
Old rusted speakers in the tall dry grass
Watching the midnight freight trains pass
A ticket stub stuck in a gravel road
Carrying a heavy and a lonely load
Steel guitar crying in the open air
Wind in my jacket and a thousand yard stare
No more orders, no more frying pans
Just the open road and some working man's plans
I trade the spatula for a steering wheel
Tearing through the valley in a cage of steel
The scent of diesel and the smell of pine
Crossing over that old county line
Leather gloves counting every pace
Looking for a ghost of a hidden place
Past the drive-in where the screen fell down
Walking out the borders of this dying town
I left the diner and I left the key
Finally feeling like I'm running free
No more small talk and no more cheap tips
A taste of freedom on my weathered lips
Leather gloves counting every pace
Looking for a ghost of a hidden place
Past the drive-in where the screen fell down
Walking out the borders of this dying town
Just keep driving fast.
Out of this town at last.
(Harmonica fade)
