Born in a 19th century west Texas saloon. The scene; straight out of a period piece motion picture. The itinerate guitar toting musicians. The lost recovering junkie. The cowboy and bar maid . The moment where you find yourself in another dimension; living a tall tale you've heard from elders and read about. The choices, distractions, the pitfalls, and the attraction to the road and dedication to the songs. A glimse into Bline Lemon Jefferson's world..or maybe Lightnin' Hopkins'…It's Blaze Foley's blues..it's Townes Van Zandt's blues…it's OUR blues. This song was birthed as it happened one night in Alpine, TX and is dedicated to the troubadours who came before us.

Your foot’s on the gas pedal of my heart Speeding towards a cliff in a jalopy falling apart This rust bucket can’t support us anymore We’re cruising for a breakdown on the side of the road

And a fiery torch ain’t strong enough to repair our wounds We’re running out of road and steel towards impending doom These suicide doors are locked from the outside I’m trapped in here with you and you can’t drive

The wheels are coming off and the spark plugs just won’t spark Our lights don’t work and daylight’s’ turning to dark We’re speeding downhill and the brakes won’t brake I’m trying talk sense to you but it don’t take

Your foot’s on the gas pedal of my heart In a jalopy that’s falling apart The spark plugs just won’t spark And daylight is turning to dark