Surrounded by candles outside the back door
In the middle of a cornfield in Kansas
I felt very trapped
In the summer of the cotton egg
The middle of the tour
So much space, nowhere go
This is a gateway to hell
Most people at the truck stops are it's guardians
They are god-fearing and they don't trust us
And I'm afraid the cops are gonna bust us
It's a wide open trap
In the middle of a map