The Route 66 Killers - Highway 666

Desert Highway

Sergei Fleminkov
Copyright © 2003

So he’s driving down this old desert road
Somewhere outside of Tucson, that’s the last sign he remembers
The full moon is bouncing light off of the baked desert sand
Just him and the road, can’t recall seeing anyone pass him for ages now
He’s got his windows rolled down, the warm air is blowing in his face
And over his ears, drowning out the mono speaker
That’s playing some old country tune,
From one of those AM stations out in no man’s land.

It’s one of those typical desert highways
The ones that stretch on and on
Nothing for miles except for the occasional glowing eyes
Of a pack of hungry, rabid coyotes sitting next to the road
And in the distance, you can hear the others howling away
Into the night sky, like a mournful funeral dirge.

He’s damned to drive that old dusty road for all eternity
For some evil sin he committed when he was alive
His shiny black 55’ Ford screams up and down that road
His license plate reads with the word “Diablo”
Occasionally, he’ll show some kindness to a lone hitchhiker
Or a family who’s car is broken down
By giving them a one way trip to Hell

Some say he sold his soul to the devil
Others say he’s the Devil himself, rounding up fresh souls
To take back to Hell with him
Who knows, I guess its just one of those things
out on US Highway 666.