All the roads look the same behind this old prescription
Arthur strains his eyes to find meaning in the movement
Rita was the wheelman
She planned the getaway
Run the lights to the edge of the city
Hide the money in the trees
She asked you, "Who's playing who?"
Then she drew a line
All of the roads are the same
Give me the time and the date
Draw me a line on the map
Show me the place where I stay
Run