The Lost Highway (another run)

You'd say my clone is the evil twin;
well, let me set you straight, he's just another victim
under lock at that secret place.
When I close my eyes, I can still see our face,
and at night our nightmares align.
It's almost enough to drive me out of our mind.
You know, those drugs I didn't take have me riding blind,
trying to find you in the mist.
That's the gist
of the lost highway.

We cruise The Matrix collecting souls
that have converted to digital.
Download them through the radio.
Keep them filed under rock and roll.
My chauffeur twists the mirror and then jacks in.
Looks to his shot-gun- exchanges a grin:
angel and spirit comparing sins,
ignoring voices of my friends
that have died
along side
the lost highway.

The old lines curve and break
then break and curve again.
The night song fades to waves,
and the morning threatens in
the crimes and plagues of other days
that would never compromise.
They come smiling to my fallen face
as I read the story
written in your eyes.

Count Dracula, and Johnny B. Goode
make their beds under earth and wood.
A tale is told and a song is sung,
and rock and roll devours her young.
So, here I'll wait in this desert place,
just to get another look at your face
before I vanish without a trace.
Like a voice from outer space
at your side,
I'll ride the lost highway.