In our rusty old truck alongside of this highway
In the Devil’s own corner of these US of A
It’s down to fuel or food with our last dollar:
Darling I don’t think we’re having supper today
No darling I don’t think we’re having supper today

It’s  been three weeks gone since we left Muskogee County
Once the locusts finished eating what the sun didn’t fry
We up and hit the road when the banker came a’knocking:
Sorry Mister Banker but the well’s run dry
I’m sorry Mister Banker but the well’s run dry

When there ain’t no work and there ain’t no rain
Can you tell me what the hell a simple man’s supposed to do?
When you’re just another desperate Duster in this ragged wagon train–
Strung out along this highway like a twister’s just torn through
Strung out along this highway like a  twister’s just torn through

Last night around the fire a preacher said the Bible says
“The Lord insists on kindness for the humble and the sick”
Well I appreciate the sentiment but when I meet my maker, I’ll say:
“Give you A for effort but you didn’t make it stick”
“’ll give you A for effort Lord but you sure didn’t make it stick”

Where there ain’t no love and there’s no damn no justice
Can you tell me where the hell a simple man’s supposed to go?
When every town is sending cops and Pinkertons to bust us–
Tearing down our camp to send us packing down the road
Tearing down our camp to send us packing down the road

A crying child, a kerosene smell
Days and nights in badlands baked into a dusty hell
Broke and sick and hungry, tired to the bone
We’re down to our last dollar but we haven’t found a home
Down to our last dollar, and we ain’t found a home