Lyrics:

I'm going to Colorado to unload my head
I'm going to New York City and that's in New York, friends
I'm going to Arizona, sex on the rocks all warm and red
And we bled

And the writing in the stall said, 'We write our maps in the stalls'
I'm going up to Alaska, I'm gonna get off scot-fucking-free
And we all did

This truckers atlas roads the ways
The freeways and highways don't know
The buzz from the bird on my dash
Road locomotive phone
This truckers atlas roads the ways
The freeways and highways don't know
The buzz from the bird on my dash
Road locomotive phone

I don't feel and I feel great
I sold my atlas by the freight stairs
I do lines and I crossed roads
I crossed the lines of all the great state roads

I'm going up, going over to Montana
You got yourself a trucker's atlas
You knew you were all hot
Well, maybe you'll go and blow a gasket
You start at the northwest corner
Go down through California
Beeline, you might drive three days
Three nights to the tip of Florida

Do you speak the lingo?
Oh, oh no
Do you speak the lingo?
No, no
How far does your road go?
Oh, no, you don't know?

I'm going to Colorado to unload my head
I'm going to New York City and that's in New York, friends
I'm going up to Alaska, I'm gonna get off scot-fucking-free
And we all did

And the writing in the stall said, 'We write our maps in the stalls'
I'm going to Arizona, sex on the rocks all warm and red
And we all bled

This truckers atlas roads the ways
The freeways and highways don't know
The buzz from the bird on my dash
Road locomotive phone
This truckers atlas roads the ways
The freeways and highways don't know
The buzz from the bird on my dash
Road locomotive phone

I don't feel and it feels great
I sold my atlas by the freight stairs
I do lines and I crossed roads
I crossed the lines of all the great state roads

I'm going up, going over to Montana
You got yourself a trucker's atlas
You knew you were all hot
Well, maybe you'll go and blow a gasket
You start at the northwest corner
Go down through California
Beeline, you might drive three days and
Three nights to the tip of Florida

Where I do lines in at the crossroads where I cross—
I don't feel, I sold my at—
I crossed roads, I crossed—
How far does your road go? No
I'm goin' to Colorado to unload my head
I'm goin' to New York City
I'm going up to Alaska
And the writing in the stall said, 'We write our maps—'
On the rocks all