Two hundred boogie miles,
Growing beard, crazy smile.
Traffic lights are green,
The smell of gasoline.
Oh-Oh, I’ve got no money,
I’ve got no home.
A thousand miles we’re moving ahead.
Groovy beats explode my head.
Taking a break for a bottle of booze.
The slide is screeching out of the blues.
Oh-Oh, I’ve got no money,
I’ve got no home.
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