Smoke
©1987 Dakota Sid Clifford


Look at all them cars there ain't they something cruisin'
        along creakin' and a clunkin'.
Pouring out smoke on the valley floor, fixin it so we can't breath no more.
Red ones, green ones, yellow ones too. Black and white ones, some are blue.
Big ones, little ones, mid size types. Look at them angels ridin' on bikes.

Look at them airplanes up in the sky, pouring out smoke there way up high.
Look at them trains riding on a track, bringing new cars in on their back.
Look at them trucks carrying cars that are broke,
        drinking up diesel and pouring out smoke.
Look at that air so plain to see, no that ain't the way air used to be.

You can just take a look at them lungs there shiny and black,
        suckin' in smoke and blowin' it back.
Look at that death there creepin' around, riding in on that highway sound.
Look at them folks there drivin' so brave,
        trying to cruise from the cradle to the grave.
Some make it soon, some make it late,
        some folks drive like they just can't wait.

Well I'm in the slow lane shaking in my knees,
        cryin' out loud and hollering please.
Puffin' and wheezin' and gaspin' for air, hopin' I live till I get there,
I get there, I get where?
I'll get there...