I am a cassette
In a snazzy cadillac painted in blue
I got a case with the white powder as if from a vignette
And if I am not shot today in Texas that's a perfect coup
My back-sit's upholstery lately has grown pale
My body is the driver
It's not afraid of crossin' any rail
And on the bumper is written: “Here comes the survivor”
I am always a cassette
I take myself out of the tape recorder
Sniff my own dust, put out my own cigarette,
scratch my polyester film that can count as a murder,
thoroughly shake the tape
as if it was not a plastic music toy, but brains
as if I could alter with such a gesture my own shape
as if I had no metal, but blood in my veins
as if I could know the road signs
a bit better than all the tracks that are on my tape
as if I could come together with someone in a couple of miles
and my head was not spinnin' like an unled zeppelin
because of the roughness and dent and scrape
on my tape
So here I am
With money and a dog named Seamus in summer '68
With my snazzy car and masterful plans of scam
And I am faster
and harder
and hundred times more unbound
than any freight
My tires might be flat
And petrol tank acts like a spado
And a truck with empty wine bottles whirs like a brat
But I am a cassette
I know my songs well before I start singin'
I know that I myself am a rescue and a threat
I know that my outspoken words are stingin'
But even without a car or a license or a recorder decayin'
Or my driver's body disfigured by a bullet gape
I am a tape
And I will be playin'