Sugar on the highway, something 'bout the way she moved made it worth my staying there. I might have been a bit abused. Man she was a sweet machine. Coffee smokes out on my jeans. Slid across the bed like gasoline. Burned right, never kept it clean. Not a girl in the city reminds me of you. Not a girl in the city reminds me of you. Not a girl in the city reminds me that you go home, all alone. And no one knows where you came from.