The Mountain Goats Design Your Own Container Garden

I took to the highway
Went out to Pico-Crenshaw
Old friends, old friends

I took to the highway
The highway took to me
Like a second skin

Rolled around in the evening
Circling like a buzzard
Trouble in mind

Excavating the space
We left behind

Yes, I took trinkets with me
Left them by the crater
Here ghosts, old ghosts

Smelled all the chlorine
I took the low road
Where the light is just right

Crawled around in the glowing
all-embracing wreckage
Sun-burned and snow-blind

Excavating the space
We left behind