You roll on tires thin as thread
Across a lot where hopes are dead
Your chrome is peeled like winter skin
Where all the midnight ghosts begin
Ride the rusty spoke road home
Where the wilder spirits roam
Find the screen of silver grey
Before the headlights fade away
You lean against a leaning pole
A broken frame, a tired soul
The gravel bites your rubber heel
The kind of ache that riders feel
Ride the rusty spoke road home
Where the wilder spirits roam
Find the screen of silver grey
Before the headlights fade away
The ticket booth is locked and tight
No popcorn smell, no movie light
Just weeds that climb the concrete floor
And rust that eats the open door
Ride the rusty spoke road home
Where the wilder spirits roam
Find the screen of silver grey
Before the headlights fade away
You find a spot in row thirteen
Where once a velvet seat was clean
You stand there still in desert wind
Where every lonely road has sinned
Ride the rusty spoke road home
Where the wilder spirits roam
Find the screen of silver grey
Before the headlights fade away
Just a spoke in a wheel.
Keep on rolling.
