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