A white ghost, making his way up the west coast   Trying to focus his high hopes on a vagina or two   He's taking his chances   Meanwhile, back in his living room   Bright smiles are watching his toddler run speed trials   Over a grandmother's rug   And nature advances      Up the interstate   He's been awake   And pretty drunk for three whole days   No one wants to stop   Until they get to where they're going   I'll get to where I'm going pretty soon      So he takes another drink   'Cause watching the scenery bleed   Into each similar scene   Isn't as sweet as it had been in his dreams      It's faster to buy cigarettes and some cold beer   If you don't rattle the cashier   By asking her back to your room   She's calling security      Our car's on fire in the parking lot   And nobody wants it to rain   But God isn't listening   So all of the windshields glisten   The water and oil mix   Causing the fire to spread   To five or six innocent automobiles   Waiting in their nearby spots   What a cruel God we've got      Right on, right on, right on   Right on, right on   Right on, right on, right on   Right on, right on      So he takes another drink   'Cause watching the formula bleed   Into each similar thing   Isn't as sweet as it had been in his dreams