Tires wreaking havoc on a dusty country road
Spinning wheels in corn fields
Mowed down row by row
They’re in tank tops and in faded jeans
Overalls rolled up to their knees
A toothpick and a straw hat
In a small town down the railroad tracks
That’s where limits know no bounds
Where the fox gets chased by hounds
From dusk till dawn
They’re here then gone
Somewhere likely underground