4.58 A.M. (Dunroamin, Duncarin, Dunlivin)
Truckdriver : "Hey kid, you looking for a lift?… Get on up here""How's it going good buddy?"
I nailed ducks to the wallKept my heart in dark ruinsI built bungalows all over the hillsDunroamin, duncarin, dunlivin
Took my girl to the countryTo sleep out under the moonNext thing she's going crazy
Trucker: "Women are like that kidWhat the hell can you do?"
She waits for the real Mr. Right to comeGently removing her heartWith his promises of real communication
Trucker :"I saw a program about that on TV…"
Who's always picking up the tabWho built a bungalow for his mum and dadMe
Who took you out to all the showsWho worked his fingers to the boneMeWhile you were asleep
Man: "It was me… I did"
I kept you in buttons and bows
Man: "Christ all those clothes"[All those clothes]
So you could encourage this creep
With his neat feetAnd his clean fingernailsWith his wise but twinkling eyesHe's a rock standing out in an ocean of doubt
Trucker :"Get moving, get off the road ya Goddamn faggot"
And compromise
I'd like to go on with this bit of a songDescribing this schmuckI'd like to go on
But I'm gonna throw up
Trucker: "Not in my rig you don't boy… get the hell out of here"