(C.W. McCall, Bill Fries, Chip Davis)

It's 4 A.M., and I'm a hundred miles from breakfast in Wyomin'
 I'm [bad word] #39;

I got the radio on, playin' on a station from New Orleans
 An' now it's rainin'

I'm makin' time, tryin' ta keep it rollin'
 And I'm all alone

 [bad word] 
 Windshield wipers in the rain

I hear that country-western [bad word] #39; at me, through the thunder
 flash of lightnin'

I hear the D.J., sayin' "Here's a little tune for all you [bad word] 
 "I hope you like it."

I'm gettin' tired; my eyes are feelin' sandy
 When I'm alone

 [bad word] 
 Windshield wipers in the rain

I hear a freight [bad word] #39; down
 I see the headlights flashin' 'round
 I feel an earthquake in the ground
 An' then he's gone
 An' I'm alone
 All alone

 [bad word] 
 Windshield wipers in the rain

I feel a cold Wyomin' [bad word] #39; on me in the mornin'
 I need some [bad word] 

I see a sign, says it's only fifty miles to where I'm going
 And I hope it's open

I look around, wishin' you was with me
 But I'm alone

 [bad word] 
 Windshield wipers in the rain

I see a distant neon sign
 I turn the music way up high
 I wipe the lonesome from my eyes
 But I'm alone

 [bad word] 
 Windshield wipers in the rain