Acathisia

One laydown machine

Burned a road

Right through the prairie

Stream of boiling ash

Painted up with perfect lines

Discount labor packing

Each lane

Bargain basement homes

Sewn to the road

Slipshod directions

Do not explain

I got these shoes for nothing

And they have lasted me forever

Searching up and down the lost highway

I can read the grid

I have memorized the key

Counting every inch

From C-4 to J-3

I can think in scale

'Cause I know it ain't

On my map

Scraping off the typeset

Dig into the atlas

Well they can paint it up

Make it appear to go somewhere

Well they can paint it up

But I know where it doesn't lead