At the roll of the dice, we started the engine.
Take a look at the map, we are headin' down.
There's a figure of Christ, upon the dashboard.
Take a right down a wrong road, we are headin' south,
South,
South.
There's got to be an easier way, to find a redemption,
Because fate, bruises all,
Fate, bruises all.
There's got to be an easier way, to get back home.
Over 200 miles, from civilisation.
Summer loaded the dice, and the engine's breaking down.
And the figure of Christ started lookin' like Elvis.
We abandon the ride, we are headin' south,
South,
South.
There's got to be an easier way, to find a redemption,
Because fate, bruises all,
Fate, bruises all.
There's got to be an easier way, to get back home.
Is there any way, to recover the situation,
Turn into alcohol?
Usually works for everyone,
It doesn't work for you,
'Cause you don't work for anyone.
There's got to be an easier way, to find a redemption,
Because fate, bruises all,
Fate, bruises all.
There's got to be an easier way, to get back home.