In 1972, the MG Sun scorched the tarp on the flatbed Dad was chasing the legend of a roaring machine Old highway, destination: The '54 Chevrolet, the Catfish Mouth With his heart in his hands and the smell of gasoline Slept in a dirty ranch, woke up in the cold air The BR 381 chewed the tires thin and rough The Catfish Mouth broke down, just smoke and a small repair And the fight broke out at the first saloon he had enough He left a trail of dust and a ghost on the ground Knew that trouble was in every corner of his heart The asphalt is my judge To run is the deep root BR 381 Driving without looking, driving without looking for The night light flashed, a siren blinding his sight Cops on his tail, asking for papers he didn't own He saw the church stairs, didn't think twice and he drove Rolled down the stone steps, and came home safe and sound, by the morning light He left a trail of dust and a ghost on the ground Knew that trouble was in every corner of his heart The asphalt is my judge To run is the deep root BR 381 Driving without looking, driving without looking for He left a trail of dust and a ghost on the ground Knew that trouble was in every corner of his heart The asphalt is my judge To run is the deep root BR 381 Driving without looking, driving without looking for