[Verse 1]
Underneath what's beating slimy green
Saint Laurent built in the '70s
No intelligent thing left to say
Oh, washed up it bid them wash away
Motorcycle, nineteen fifty-three
Yellow mounting carpet Indian chief
Rusted in the old bent dumpy shed
Pushed the wheelbarrow over the tire tread

[Chorus]
And I was like, "Oh my god, is this actually happening to me?"
Off of the side of the road you looked over cautiously
Rolled down the window, said you look like a girl I used to know
Why don't we leave this town together wherever the wind blows?

[Verse 2]
Through the dirt fields in Colombia
Had to hitchhike back to Montezuma
Ended up in some place far away
Cowboy boots, two dollar switchblade
Seven seventy M-W
Series deep that goes a hundred soon
Sittin' on the leather worn and torn
Muddy boot prints cover up the floor