Gasoline Man!

Gasoline man, he's got a home in Alto Loma in the charred heels of the Grand Prix

But it's all burned down, but a porch and a woman in a polka dot gown

And a humidor in a curio full of medals, half a head on a purple string

The dog's tied to a post and it's coyote season in sight of Banyan Street's palm trees

Wind breaks the loosened pane as

Her black Labrador clenches a field mouse

He spins her ghost ride on the stairs

As she's smoking sky dancers in a burnt wicker chair

Gasoline man, Gasoline man, he said won't you come and dance

And she just watched the fire dance