When the Open Road Is Closing In

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 the 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