My baby's always crying. My baby wants to see me cry, too. Chain on my heart is going to break. 'Cause every tear that falls in here. Is a dime for the juke box fury.
Out on the range. The quiet, endless still. Where the wild s.s.i. Whispers from these hills. It's a petrified forest. Trailer parks and Fords. And there ain't no goin' back.
What's the matter with it? Why's it look that way?. What's the matter with it? What's it trying to say?. What's that on its back? Where's it trying to go?.