[Intro: Fast, percussive acoustic guitar chugging at a manic tempo; a low, rhythmic bass thump mimics tires passing over highway dividers] [Verse 1: Drums enter with a hard, driving rim-shot; vocal delivery is rapid, breathless, and syncopated] One hundred miles of plywood skin Red paint blistering, the borders wearing thin A wooden jackalope with hollow eyes Staring at the margins of the prairie skies Read the text, decode the font Tell me what the thirsty passengers want A checkpoint in the dust (An anchor in the rust) Before the asphalt begins to combust [Refrain: Instrumentation drops to a single, pulsing bass note and a dry shaker; vocals are stark and geometric] Free ice water for a thirsty soul But the signs are what keep the highway whole Yeah, the signs are what keep the highway whole [Verse 2: A high, unstable analog synth drone enters, wavering like heat rising off the road; vocals increase in intensity] Eighty miles out and the horizon bends A cardboard cutout where the world ends If the timber rots, if the staples fail The sky drops down like a iron veil Hold the hammer, patch the seam Keep the billboard feeding the dream Green glass, five-cent brew (The desert is watching you) Spilling over the avenue [Instrumental Break 1: A brief, frantic 8-bar acoustic guitar strumming fury, colliding with a discordant, buzzing electric guitar line that sounds like a blown speaker] [Verse 3: The drums vanish, leaving only a nervous, ticking hi-hat and the acoustic guitar played with a muted palm; vocals are a manic whisper] Ten miles left to the holy well The air smells sweet like a carousel Look closely at the drug store neon light It’s a projection keeping back the night If the tourists stop reading the words The walls will dissolve into blackbirds Nothing but sage, nothing but bone (Left on the interstate alone) A dial-tone on a cellular phone [Chorus: Full sonic explosion; maximum volume, acoustic guitar thrashed relentlessly, backup vocals shouting in desperate unison] Pull the lever, check the gauge Turn the billboard to the final page (Ah-ah-ah) Free ice water for a thirsty soul But the signs are what keep the highway whole (Keep the highway whole) Yeah, the signs are what keep the highway whole (Keep the highway whole) [Outro: The tempo accelerates into an unstable, frantic rush; the instrumentation cuts off instantly on a sharp, dry snare hit, leaving only the hollow hiss of a hot wind passing through a wire fence]
