Though she weeps on some dirty sheets in some moldy shithole... outside Abilene... Route 20's stench swells in my soul... I feel so old... my whole damn stay... We've been driving through this piss/sting rain She's been starving... those bars they carved in... now with a king of boars... I'll watch and cower now... like I was drawn up big... such a plastic whore... Though she bleeds... know that I've bled through years... These crooked mountains have served up some dirty fears... do you still think of me?