Sheyrl Crow – Gasoline

Sheryl Crow sees a Mad Max future in “Gasoline.”


Way back in the year of 2017
The sun was growing hotter
And oil was way beyond its peak
When crazy Hector Johnson broke into a refinery
And the black gold started flowing
Just like Boston tea

It was the summer of the riots
And London sat in sweltering heat
And the gangs of Mini Coopers
Took the battle to the streets
But when the creed was handed down
For no more trucks and no more cars
They threw cans of petrol through the windows at Scotland Yard

Full lyrics at Sheryl Crow discussion board. Via The Drum Beat.

6 Comments

  • bikesgonewild
    January 28, 2008 - 4:44 pm | Permalink

    …ah, sheyrl…sweet, soulful as ever & bringin' it home…
    …you'll always have it, babe…

  • bikesgonewild
    January 28, 2008 - 11:44 pm | Permalink

    …ah, sheyrl…sweet, soulful as ever & bringin' it home……you'll always have it, babe…

  • PAolo
    January 28, 2008 - 7:03 pm | Permalink

    Too bad she confuses Brasil & Argentina.

  • PAolo
    January 29, 2008 - 2:03 am | Permalink

    Too bad she confuses Brasil & Argentina.

  • Mad Max
    January 28, 2008 - 7:35 pm | Permalink

    The vision dims and all that remains are memories. They take me back – back to the place where the black pump sucked guzzolene from the earth. And I remember the terrible battle we fought – the day we left that place forever. But, most of all, I remember the courage of a stranger, a road warrior called Max.
    To understand who he was, you must go back to the last days of the old world, when, for reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior nations went to war and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all.
    For without fuel they were nothing. They had built a house of straw. People stopped in the streets and listened: for the first time they heard the sound of silence. Their world crumbled.
    And only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. At last, the vermin had inherited the earth. And in this maelstrom of decay, ordinary men were battered and crushed.
    Men like the Warrior Max, who in the roar of an engine, lost everything and became a shell of a man. A burnt out, desolate man, a dead man, running from the demons of his past. A man who wandered far away. And it was out here in this blighted place that he learned to live again.

  • Mad Max
    January 29, 2008 - 2:35 am | Permalink

    The vision dims and all that remains are memories. They take me back – back to the place where the black pump sucked guzzolene from the earth. And I remember the terrible battle we fought – the day we left that place forever. But, most of all, I remember the courage of a stranger, a road warrior called Max. To understand who he was, you must go back to the last days of the old world, when, for reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior nations went to war and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all. For without fuel they were nothing. They had built a house of straw. People stopped in the streets and listened: for the first time they heard the sound of silence. Their world crumbled. And only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. At last, the vermin had inherited the earth. And in this maelstrom of decay, ordinary men were battered and crushed. Men like the Warrior Max, who in the roar of an engine, lost everything and became a shell of a man. A burnt out, desolate man, a dead man, running from the demons of his past. A man who wandered far away. And it was out here in this blighted place that he learned to live again.

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