Sugar on the highway, something ‘bout the way she moved made it worth my staying there.
I might have been a bit abused.

Man she was a sweet machine. Coffee smokes out on my jeans.

Slid across the bed like gasoline. Burned right, never kept it clean.

Not a girl in the city reminds me of you. Not a girl in the city reminds me of you.
Not a girl in the city reminds me that you go home, all alone.

And no one knows where you came from.