The Filling Station
Rag in my pocket, sleeves rolled up. I go to work in my pickup truck. When the bell rings I’ll pump your gas. I got the full service blues but I’m built to last, yeah I’m built to last.

I’m too young to serve but I sell cold beer to the five-o’clock heroes at the lumber mill. Cold budweiser and red man chew. Pack of nabs and a mountain dew, yeah a mountain dew.

At the exxon filling station. Exxon, it’s my occupation. Exxon, I need a vacation from the exxon. What’s your destination?

A girl named Lynda, she lives up the block. She usually takes a walk about eleven-o’clock. I wave to her from underneath the hood. She never stopped by, but her sisters would, yeah her sisters would.

The smell of oil and cigarettes. Classic rock, hydraulic lifts. I’ll wash your windows, I’ll fill your tires. I’m broke as a joke but I’ll never retire, yeah I’ll never retire

At the exxon filling station. Exxon, it’s my occupation. Exxon, I need a vacation from the exxon. What’s your destination?