Diamonds on my windshield   Tears from heaven   Pulling into town on the Interstate   Pulling a steel train in the rain   The wind bites my cheek through the wing   Fast flying, freway driving   Always makes me sing      There's a Duster tryin' to change my tune   Pulling up fast on the right   Rolling restlessly, twenty-four hour moon      Wisconsin hiker with a cue-ball head   Wishing he was home in a Wiscosin bed   fifteen feet of snow in the East   Colder then a welldigger's ass      Oceanside it ends the ride, San Clemente coming up   Sunday desperadoes slip by, gas station closed, cruise with a dry back   Orange drive-in the neon billin'   Theatre's fillin' to the brim   Slave girls and a hot spurn bucket full of sin      Metropolitan area with interchange and connections   Fly-by-nights from Riverside   Black and white plates, out of state, running a little bit late      Sailors jockey for the fast lane   101 don't miss it   Rolling hills and concrete fields   The broken line's on your mind      Eights go east and the fives go north   The merging nexus back and forth   You see your sign, cross the line, signalling with a blink      The radio's gone off the air   Gives you time to think   You ease it out and you creep across   Intersection light goes out   You hear the rumble   As you fumble for a cigarette   Blazing through this midnight jungle   Remember someone that you met   One more block; the engine talks   And whispers 'home at last'   It whispers, whispers, whispers 'home at last', home at last