Face up against the window
Eyes full of road, plains grass,
and a far away mountain pass
The sweet smell of summer
creeping through a window
that's slightly cracked
in a beat up old Volkswagen
with a broken 8 track

Mom's sleeping in the front seat
and dad's got some country music
singing sweet serenades softly
through twitchy speakers in a broken
door panel while we work our way
across God's country from
sea to shining sea

There's something magical
about a road trip
black asphalt
and the sight of a farmer's sprinklers
at sixty and five miles an hour
two in the afternoon
on a hot and dusty strip
of road between hotels and night's
long starry pauses
and sun's yawning rises

Nobody loves it more than
little boys and girls in a backseat
with a blanket
a pillow
and some snacks to watch
America come to life on a
window-cranked movie screen.