Atomic City

Let’s pack up the station wagon,

take a picnic, the kids are bored:

we’ll be across the state-line

and in Nevada before noon.

You remember the last time?

We hitched, waited just fifteen minutes,

before that Lincoln Futura

picked us up and took us to Vegas.

Didn’t say much, the driver, just smiled,

loaned us cardboard polarised glasses

and went to park his rocket-finned car

at Binion’s Horseshoe on The Strip.

The flash lit the desert and the sky:

the cloud was a disappointment,

but you said it was fifty miles away

as the dust flies, then we felt the wind.

Let’s go, Atomic City’s calling.
Audio here