Throw all my junk in the back of the trunk
I'm moving away from this ol place
Got everything packed up in my two-tone
    Chevrolet
I'm sick of running in this tired rat-race

I'm getting outta this middle of nowhere town
And gonna go somewhere at the end of that road
I ain't lookin to find no pot of gold
Just gotta get out on my own

I'll make plenty of miles if the weather holds on
Even if the wipers don't work
I don't know where I'm goin but I'll know once I
    get there
Which should be sometime after dark

If it ain't the place I know I oughtta be
I'll be gone come morning even before you can
    count to three
I'll be on that road too
Like a million other April fools

I'll have yesterday in my rear-view
And the future will be in my windshield
And fate will be on the highway
Just waitin to be unsealed.

4-1-99