Lyrics:

Little America is a sprawling rest stop along Interstate 80 in Wyoming. It’s located in the middle of nowhere and advertised for many miles in either direction.
I can't see myself at thirty, I don't buy a lacquered thirty
Caught like flies, preserved for tomorrow's jewelry, again
Lighted in the amber yard, a green shellback, green shellback
Preserved for tomorrow's eyes, in a tree beer tar-black br'er sap

The biggest wagon is the empty wagon is the noisiest
The consul, a horse, Jefferson, I think we're lost

Who will tend the farm museums? Who will dust today's belongings?
Who will sweep the floor, hedging near the givens?
Rally 'round your leaders, it's the mediator season
Cheyanne is on the beach, do you realize the life she's led?

The biggest wagon is the empty wagon is the noisiest
The consul, a horse, oh man, I think we're lost

The biggest wagon is the empty wagon is the noisiest
A matter, of course, Jefferson, drive it (Turn around)

Lighted in the amber yard, a green shellback, green shellback
Skylight, sty-tied, Nero pie-tied, in a tree tar-black br'er sap
Reason has harnessed the tame, a lodging, not stockader's game
Another Greenville, another Magic Mart
Jeffers, grab your fiddle

The biggest wagon is the empty wagon is the noisiest
The consul, a horse, Jefferson, I think we're lost
The biggest wagon is the empty wagon is the noisiest
The consul, a horse, Jefferson, I think we're lost

Lost