I, Flathead.

Three o'clock, thismorning, I woke up in a dream.
Thought I heard a flathead motor roar, I thought I smelled gasoline.

Just like old Whiskey Bob, down on Thunder Road.
I hear their voices calling, just accross the finish line.
And that's why, I'm going out and trying, a flathead one more time.

I'll get back to you baby, don't you have no fear.
'Cos I been there, and I wrecked that, and baby I'm still here...