Moonlit Riders

(yeah, yeah)

Out past the bypass where the asphalt ends (mmm-mm)

Faded clear coat on that silver Civic door Cracked manifold humming like

an open chord Two-stroke two-fifties kicking red clay gravel up Tailpipes smoking

in the bottom of a plastic cup

Headlights cutting through the humid summer haze Chasing gravel roads running both

ways

Shift into third and hear the valves start to cry Dust clouds

hanging up against the open sky

(let it rip now)

Nobody around for twenty miles out

Rolling zero-three Hondas and dirt bikes on the ridge

Cutting off the high beams crossing over Miller's bridge

Midnight silver shining on the dented fenders proud Two strokes screaming loud

Nothing but the moon and the fire roads burning down

(yeah,

burning down)

Mud on the swingarm,

chain slap on the frame Broke-down odometer that forgot its name

Tail light taped up with red cellophane strip

Hand on the throttle never losing on the grip We don't need

a runway,

we don't need a town Just an open tank of gas before

the sun comes round

One day the rusted floorboards give way to the floor

One day we won't kickstart these engines anymore

So keep the clutch dropped till the gravel sings (oh,

keep it rolling) Rolling zero-three Hondas and dirt bikes on the ridge

Cutting off the high beams crossing over Miller's bridge

Midnight silver shining on the dented fenders proud

Two strokes screaming loud

Nothing but the moon and the fire roads burning down

(under the pale moon burning down!)

Silver Civic in the weeds

Chain smoke and tumbleweeds

Just rolling under the moon

(rolling, rolling)