Lyrics:

(Michael Timmins) You're clean as a widow woman's washboard, son, stick it in the wind Put the mountains to your back the great plains on your grille time to take a little spin Boulder looks like the type of town that I could spend some time, but in Houston they got our name in lights You're clean as a widow woman's washboard, son, the slab is yours tonight Townes is in the back lounge with his hands in his pocket pulls out two dice and says, 'Let's get at it' Salina in the headlights, snake eyes on the floor, Al drops another twenty, Pete heads for the door, Springer's feeling lucky, sits down for a spell, Oklahoma City and he's lost his last bill Jeff is in a bind waiting on sister hicks seven comes a-calling as we cross on into Texas Townes is in the back lounge with a fist full of fives he says, 'It's a little bit long but I'm enjoying this ride' Be careful with the dice when you're surrounded by others with boxcars in their eyes Never count your winnings at hour 23 of a 24-hour drive Remember that you're not the one calling the tune that's making those diamonds dance or you'll be clean as a widow woman's washboard, son, and those are the facts Townes is in the back lounge cursing at them bones he says, 'Ain't this fool ever heard of Raton'