Whoosh of the turbo as I put my foot down
Screech of the tires as I make a sharp turn
The gentle spray of the nearby sprinkler
Cools me off as my arm starts to burn
Oh, sometimes I think I'm going Nowhere
Sometimes I'm glad that's the case
Can't spend my life in a comfy office
Rather travel in a car as old as me
Playing guitar in a festival kitchen
Took us ages to get up and about
I see her standing by the doorway
She smiles, I smile inside and out
We hang out and we're our kind of people
Hours like seconds, nervous and fun
Conversation, powdered, with dancing
Go to my tent, there goes the sun
Cruising easy but the steering wheel's shaking
Passing palm trees in time with the track
Best friend here, Sangria he's making
And the one I fell for, asleep in the back
Oh, sometimes I think I'm going Nowhere
Sometimes I'm glad that's the case
Can't spend my life in a comfy office
Rather travel in a car as old as me