"In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines. Sprung from cages on Highway 9, Chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected And steppin' out over the line. Baby this town rips the bones from your back. It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap. We gotta get out while we're young, 'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run."