He was out sunning with the youth He was seen in a damaging light Picking popcorn from his tooth Ordering cocktails with his eyes She had a face like a dumped-out ashtray Spitting out straight abuse Vocabulary of a broken marquee And a wit she couldn't use Get your feet off of my dashboard What do you think the damn thing's for At least try to look pretty Tonight we're going into Tucumcari Pulled a wet bill from his shoe Wrinkling a dignified face By the broken heart shaped pool In a less than enchanted state She was off at the little girls' room With a boy from the Trouble Tree Bar Snapping her jeans while the radio sings I love you just the way you are Get your feet off of my dashboard What do you think the damn thing's for At least try to look pretty Tonight we're going into Tucumcari [Repeat x2]