Forty miles from the city
Sitting in traffic isn't fun
A crucifix stabbed in soil
To a father from a son
There's ghosts on the highway, I claim
Dancing on the medians, slamming brakes
I'm forty miles from the city
And this is the shit that's in my brain
I need a whim
Something I can get caught up in
I've got to get down to something
If I could sacrifice a little bit, I will
Some of us are drinking coffee
But how the hell could you read a paper?
Probably headlines of fuel
While the governments putting all the red tape down
Wake up, I just woke up
The revolution won't be televised
It's in the early morning drive
I need a whim
Something I can get caught up in
I've got to get down to something
If I could sacrifice a little bit, I will