Stood still on a highway

I saw a woman

By the side of the road

With a face that I knew like my own

Reflected in my window

Well she walked up to my quarterlight

And she bent down real slow

A fearful pressure paralysed me

In my shadow

She said "Son, what are you doing here?

My fear for you has turned me in my grave"

I said "Mama, I come to the valley of the rich

Myself to sell"

She said "Son, this is the road to Hell"



On your journey 'cross the wilderness

>From the desert to the well

You have strayed upon the motorway to Hell