I-94 - Radio Birdman

I gave you my last box of matches

Do you remember when

We were living up in the Klondike

And you had run out of gin

Truck driving friend of mine said

You was in the noose

Director of the asylum

Decided to turn you loose

Eskimo Pies comin' to you aha yeah

Eskimo Pies comin' to you

Yeah burning to you straight from hell

Twenty-two years of Motor City madness

Living in Lincoln Park

Working up at Willow Run

Driving through the dark

I-94 so full of holes

I seem to hit everyone

Tranq city makes me feel the rain

Under cold grey sun

Eskimo Pies comin' to you aha yeah

Eskimo Pies comin' to you

Yeah burning to you straight from hell

I gave you a six pack of Stroh’s

You never drank 'em down

You keep drinking Rolling Rock

You know I can’t hang round

You got Garland Jeffreys on the car radio

You know I don’t need you

You can go to Europe with Jean-Paul

Or anything you want to do

Eskimo Pies comin' to you aha yeah

Eskimo Pies comin' to you

Yeah burning to you straight from hell