In 1972, the MG Sun scorched the tarp on the flatbed
Dad was chasing the legend of a roaring machine
Old highway, destination: The '54 Chevrolet, the Catfish Mouth
With his heart in his hands and the smell of gasoline

Slept in a dirty ranch, woke up in the cold air
The BR 381 chewed the tires thin and rough
The Catfish Mouth broke down, just smoke and a small repair
And the fight broke out at the first saloon he had enough

He left a trail of dust and a ghost on the ground
Knew that trouble was in every corner of his heart

The asphalt is my judge
To run is the deep root
BR 381
Driving without looking, driving without looking for

The night light flashed, a siren blinding his sight
Cops on his tail, asking for papers he didn't own
He saw the church stairs, didn't think twice and he drove
Rolled down the stone steps, and came home safe and sound, by the morning light

He left a trail of dust and a ghost on the ground
Knew that trouble was in every corner of his heart

The asphalt is my judge
To run is the deep root
BR 381
Driving without looking, driving without looking for

He left a trail of dust and a ghost on the ground
Knew that trouble was in every corner of his heart

The asphalt is my judge
To run is the deep root
BR 381
Driving without looking, driving without looking for