Skin on fire, bones are cold;
These piston arms are born to roll,
Down down the line.
If you don't find it, it finds you;
If you don't drive, it's what you do,
Down down the line.
I see an open stage,
A crowd of people sit and wait,
And oh my fingers burn.
Mother dear, please don't be hurt,
For if I stay, I won't be heard
And oh my fingers burn.
And oh my fingers burn, burn, burn.
Focus on the work at hand,
Twistin' bolts upon the plan,
Down down the line.
Heavy years the steady wage,
Pulls the sun down on the day,
Down down the line.
I see an open stage,
A crowd of people sit and wait,
And oh my fingers burn.
Mother dear, please don't be hurt,
For if I stay, I won't be heard
And oh my fingers burn.
And oh my fingers burn, burn, burn.
Saturday morning was a hell of a crash,
But you gotta keep rolling on the trail of cash,
Down down the line.
I see an open stage,
A crowd of people sit and wait,
And oh my fingers burn.
Mother dear, please don't be hurt,
For if I stay, I won't be heard
And oh my fingers burn.
And oh my fingers burn, burn, burn,
burn, burn, burn.

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