Romance is how you look at it
It's a cheap motel in El Paso
The sheets are dirty and stained
The room isn't meant to be used all night
There's a rough bar down the block,
there are women on the street
This isn't a good part of town
That's what the room is for.
You just need to sleep a little,
can't drive anymore
That's how you use the room
It smells of sweat and sex,
and you sleep in that
You drive the night,
just listening to the engine,
and it gets spooky
You start to hear things,
a change in pitch, a throb,
a whine you hadn't heard before
You start to worry at those sounds,
start to worry about yourself
Is it the engine, or you?
Thoughts start to run together
The moon in the sky
She had a scar on her shoulder blade
You didn't even like one another,
that was the attraction
She tasted like a hot penny.
The scar was silver in the night,
a little crescent on her shoulder blade
The light caught it, made it shine,
and you didn't know what it meant
She smelled like an animal, and you loved it
You didn't like her, she didn't like you
That dislike freed you both, and you loved it
That was a long time ago
The left rear tire is clicking
When did that start?
Change lanes and the clicking stops
At night, all the roads are the same
It doesn't matter where they go,
they are all the same
You just drive them, go anywhere
A scar in the moonlight, a taste of metal
The soda isn't cold anymore,
won't wash away the bitterness of old tobacco
Light a fresh one, burn away the old
Cheap food roils in your belly,
every thing is stiff and hurts
Spanish is on the radio,
Norteno, Tejano, Little Joe y la Familia
Listen for a while, then flip it off
Patti Smith sticks in your head, "Easter"
Desire is hunger, is the fire I breathe...
can't hurt you now...because the night
Little Joe and Patti Smith
A scar in the night
It's running, this is
Not running to something, or away, just running
You make it up, anyway, make yourself up
Someone else would make you up differently
You didn't like her,
she didn't like you,
and would tell it differently
It doesn't matter,
it's all the same
All the roads are the same in the night
That's why you like to drive at night
It doesn't matter
There is nothing to see,
just the night and the road, the engine
A memory of a scar in the night
and the smell of hot oil,
hot iron of the engine,
a taste of a hot penny
You become the story she would tell,
and it doesn't matter
She makes you up,
you make her up
You can't see the moon anymore,
it's above the cab, and everything is eerie,
but it doesn't matter
You watch the gas, try to decide where you are,
how long before you have to stop
But you don't want to stop, it would spoil this
You should stop at the next one,
you're getting low, may not make another
And the stop shatters it all
The gas, the noise,
having to look at people,
it shatters it all.
The moon is high and you can't wait
to get back on the road as the engine pops and hisses
You don't want to miss it, it's out on the road
It's hot and damp and smells like an animal
and pops and hisses in the night,
and it doesn't matter because she made you up,
made you up from a scar
on her shoulder in the night,
and you're driving to meet that out there.
© 2003 - Bob Gogue