Stood still on a highway,
I saw a woman
By the side of the road.
With a face that I knew like my own,
Reflected in my window.
Well she walked up to my quarterlight,
And she bent down real slow.
A fearful pressure paralysed me in my shadow.
She said 'son what are you doing here?
My fear for you has turned me in my grave'.
I said 'mama I come to the valley of the rich,
Myself to sell'.
She said 'son this is the road to hell'.
On your journey across the wilderness,
From the desert to the well,
You have strayed upon the motorway to hell.