The Fantastic Toes


(words by Tony Rasmussen)

Grind your teeth like old transmission,

high-beams drift like apparitions,

ink black night that chokes the road ahead.


Break drum squeals and knees start knockin,’

keep your eyes fixed in their sockets,

vertigo from the jagged rocks below.


Oh, what a wicked road, even so, we’ve got miles to go,

fresh sheets and a roaring fire wait at home,

we’ve gotta fold up the map, put it in gear, give it some gas.


Hug that curve and mind your bacon,

hairpins crowd the road we’re takin,’

on and on and on and on it goes.


Breathe that petrol, sickly sweet,

feel the rumble through your feet,

Ink black night that chokes the road ahead.


Gas light low...