I'm wheels, I am moving wheels   I am a 1952 Studebaker coupe   I'm wheels, I am moving wheels, moving wheels   I am a 1952 starlite coupe      En route, les Souterrains   Des visions du Cody, Sartori a Paris   Strange spaghetti in this solemn city   There's a postcard we're all seen before      Past wild-haired teens in dark clothing   With hands-full of autographed napkins we   Eat apples in vans with sandwiches   Rush into the lobby life of hurry up and wait      Hurry up and wait for all the odd-shaped keys   Which lead to new soap and envelopes   Hotel room homesickness on a fresh blue bed   And the longest-ever phone call home, no      Sleep, no sleep, no sleep, no sleep and no mad   Video machine to eat time, a city scene   I can't explain, the Seine alone at 4am   The Seine alone at 4a, Neal and Jack and me      Absent lovers, absent lovers