Gimme some shelter,
Gimme some rust.
Gimme a trail dog,
If you must.
On the highway,
Dodging cones.
Big trucks passing by,
Long way from home.
Set out from Farmersville.
Through the rolling plains.
Finished up in New Boston.
They thought we was insane.
There was Ladonia,
Way way back.
Paris and Reno,
Along these tracks.
The Tomato Shed,
Burned out shacks.
Empty Crisco cans,
And bums on crack.
Sipping beers at Amigo Juan's.
Frozen glasses and limes.
Hundred and thirty miles in all.
Along the NorthEast Texas line.
C.C.G.C.
FCx3
GFC
