Fields of Gold

Parking lot motel Man stumbles out of his room just just looking like hell He hits the seat, slams the door and tears out of sight I wonder where he'll be tonight But when I'm flying down the road Through dry field of gold Sometimes I can almost feel Like I've left behind the crushing real Real, real The sun is at my back Shadows stretch out black Blowing like the breeze As it gusts all through the wheat That trucker's got a cigarette of ash In a dotted white line trance Out in the wilderness of I-40 west Just a big gulp in a leather vest And when it's rubber to the ground Ride that shadow down Round the bend oh pungent grows the pine I see mountains on the rise Rise, rise Rise Rise Uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh