[Spoken]
And when the summer rolls, the camping place was vacant, only a little litter left by the people, and the camping place was ready for a new world and a new night. But along the highway, the cars of the migrant people crawled out like bugs, and the narrow concrete miles stretched ahead

[Sung]

I am driving now, but I'm not sure I will get anywhere
In this old car. Oh, I wish it didn't have that old car air
Took the car through the wash with the antennae up. Now the radio is jacked
So I sing to myself just to keep from driving too fast
I want to drive anywhere that's far away
But I am too scared of the cars in the other lanes

Through the old speakers I think I hear the beginning of a song
But the signal grows weaker. It was never very strong
Pretty soon I know it was the wind through the broken window
The one in the backseat that I broke two summers ago

I've got one cassette; Henry Fonda reads "The Grapes of Wrath"
I can drive you home, but it can get a little quiet on the way back
I can always talk to Henry Fonda
In our 1993 Little Green Honda