Pete McDonald: Music

Gotta leave this house of rocks
Gotta leave this wooden box
Better leave before the summer
So the sun don't blow my cover

Crept along the highway system
Through the mainland commercialism
From state-to-state and town-to-town
Open minds and people that will kick you to the ground

Down and out in America
The road goes on and it just gets rough
Wasting time in America
Moving forward in a cloud of dust

Thought I’d try my hand in Mexico
Ragged clothes I got nothin’ to show
Through steaming swamps in a beat up car
Tequila bars and a broken guitar

The people came from the rivers and hills
Still living by their ancient skills
Holding out their shattered hands
Thinking I could take them to the Promised Land

We're down and out in Mexico
Real worried I got no place to go
Twenty-four and I've never been myself
Usually thinkin I should be

Somebody else, somebody else, somebody else

Try to stand on the back of time
On a generation that had it’s own mind
But I stand in a vacant lot or walk a country road
Just wishing time would stop

Down and out in America
The road goes on and it just gets rough
Twenty-four and I've never been myself
Usually thinkin’ I should be

Somebody else, somebody else, somebody else,
And I'm alone, I'm alone, on the road, I'm alone