time measured in dotted yellow lines has passed you by and i never said an honest thing to you in all my life hard times go slowly and the good times never come the world is a motor inn in an iowa highway slum when the open road is closing in and you can t say where it ends and you begin when every truckstop dive s another five years off your life when the open road is closing in and the dotted yellow lines begin to spin when the sky begins to fall on everything you like at all you won t be coming home again ciao you keep on drowning in the roads between the towns now i have been closing all the shutters in the house well i know you ll be back when every tree is turning brown you ll find the house is empty and the swingset s fallen down when the open road is closing in and you can t say where it ends and you begin when every truckstop dive s another five years off your life when the open road is closing in and the dotted yellow lines begin to spin when the sky begins to fall on everything you like at all you won t be coming home again