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Lyrics

Spitshine jukebox, Bardo strain
The all-night roadstop, in refrain
Been highway bound, or heaven sent
In trailers built, for sale or for rent

Just like the road
We're ages old
Grist for the mill
For days untold
Oh St. Christopher
You've been paroled
Now come lead us, to our homes

We watched our comforts, burn in red
Too fired with rambling, for our beds
Saw dirty books, by holy fools
Read over the graves, of counter girls

Just like the road
We're ages old
Grist for the mill
For days untold
Oh St. Christopher
You've been paroled
Now come lead us, to our homes

Tonight we don't see, that there's, no one here
We don't even see ourselves

Now darkness falls, above us, glows
The record of our journey clear

The pass is a long way from, everywhere
The pass is where we're heading

Before you steal back, your dead twin
From God let's have, a smoke again
Tonight I wouldn't, take my stand
Out on these streets, for any man

Lyrics by Robert Bell