Diesel engine cools beneath the sodium glow
Rain hammers tin like waves on rocks below
Fluorescent hum replaces foghorn's low moan
I watch my jeans spin clean in spinning chrome
Spin cycle saints watch the dirty water go
Spin cycle saints in midnight suds and steam
Washing highway grit from denim seams
The machine sings a lullaby rhythm
While rain writes sermons on the glass prism
Spin cycle saints know what the road means
Quarter drops clatter in the metal throat
Lint trap catches miles like a keeper's log
Socks pair up like buoys on a painted float
No storm warning flags, just a spin cycle cog
Spin cycle saints know the heavy load
Spin cycle saints in midnight suds and steam
Washing highway grit from denim seams
The machine sings a lullaby rhythm
While rain writes sermons on the glass prism
Spin cycle saints know what the road means
Old logbook rests on a folding table top
Coordinates fade where the suds all pop
The keeper's ghost tends a different lamp
Guiding cotton ships through the rinse cycle camp
Spin cycle saints read the weather map
Spin cycle saints in midnight suds and steam
Washing highway grit from denim seams
The machine sings a lullaby rhythm
While rain writes sermons on the glass prism
Spin cycle saints know what the road means
Dawn bleeds gray through wire-reinforced glass
Clean bundles stacked like canvas sail on deck
Engine turns, the rhythm breaks its pass
Another mile, another rain-soaked check
Spin cycle saints on the wet interstate track
Spin cycle saints in midnight suds and steam
Washing highway grit from denim seams
The machine sings a lullaby rhythm
While rain writes sermons on the glass prism
Spin cycle saints know what the road means
Spin cycle saints in the spin cycle dreams
The light still sweeps, the drum still turns
Clean wheels roll where the white line burns
