From the recording Souled Out



Twenty years after the bombs had dropped
And the whole world hit "The Collapse",
He rode into town on a steed of steel,
Aluminum, plastic, and glass.

He came from the Priory of Prius,
Found deep in the mountains of Japan.
A modern day samurai warrior,
A solitary, honorable man.

He drove a Prius Hybrid,
The last one off the block.
Men would have killed him to take that car,
A car they used to mock.

He cruised around the countryside
Helping folks to right some wrongs.
Although he never spoke his name,
He lived in many-a-song.

The Prius Whisperer.
The Prius Whisperer.

The day that he rode to that broken town
On the edge of the Old Frontier,
He could smell bad trouble floating in the air,
So he stopped to drink a beer.

He parked his car next to a bar,
Then locked it with a beep.
The security system was state-of-the-art,
It made onlookers weep.

When he pushed aside two bat-wing doors,
The bar fell into a hush.
He took a seat, and tipped his hat
Toward a hooker who hid a blush.

The bartender poured him a pungent brew
From an old and rusty tap.
The beer looked green, it had no head,
Its flavor notes were crap.

The bartender tried to apologize,
'Cause he hated to serve the dregs.
But his stock was robbed two nights ago,
Two hundred brand-new kegs.

The Whisperer asked him for the name
Of the scum who had taken the stash.
Before the man could say a word,
He was stopped by a thunderous crash.

All eyes in the bar flicked toward the doors
To see who had made the noise.
It was ol' Red Gerald, that son of a bitch,
And his God-forsaken boys.

Ol' Red was the meanest bastard in town,
And he stunk, so avoid his whiff.
Him and his boys once threw a box
Of puppies off a cliff.

Ol' Red was pissed like he always was,
His fists were balled up tight.
When he saw the stranger sitting at the bar,
He slunk over to pick a fight.

The rest of the bar scattered from the room,
But the bartender didn't go far.
Ol' Red looked down at the Whisperer,
Said, "That outside your car?"

The Whisperer nodded with a tip of his brim.
Ol' Red and his boys had a fit.
They laughed and they pointed at the Whisperer,
Ol' Red said, "Your car is shit!"

The Whisperer gently returned his glass,
The corners of a smile on his face.
He turned to Red, looked him dead in the eye,
And said to Red, "Let's race."

Red and his boys didn't laugh this time
They could tell this man meant business.
Ol' Red snapped his fingers and waved his hand
For the 'tender to be a witness.

"We play for keeps around these parts,"
Ol' Red told him with a grin.
"When I whip your ass on the roads out back,
I'll take your car for the win."

The Whisperer countered with very simple terms
That made the scene real clear.
If the Whisperer beats Ol' Red today,
He must return the beer.

Ol' Red agreed, didn't try to deny
That he had been the thief.
He turned on his heel and started to go,
Said, "Let's get started, Chief."

The Whisperer dropped some coins for the beer,
Then walked back to his car.
A little bit later Ol' Red returned
In a souped-up black Jaguar.

While he'd been gone, some men had gathered
To help to conduct the race.
They had set up a starting line and programmed two maps
Of the course that the drivers must take.

Both cars were fitted with the two special maps:
GPS bolted to each driver's seat.
Attached to each map was a hunk of C4
To stop any urge to cheat.

The cars lined up at the starting line,
Jet black versus cherry red.
Ol' Red gunned his engine, it blasted a roar.
The Prius was quiet as the dead.

The bartender's daughter was a hot little number
Whose clothes were made of lace.
She was given two flags, placed between the cars,
And told to start the race.

Her name was Grace and she claimed to be legal,
Though she still hadn't found a man.
The look she gave to the Whisperer
Said, "Catch me if you can."

With a flick of her wrists and a bounce in the air
She shouted out, "Ready, Set, GO!"
The Jaguar blasted from the starting line,
The Prius glided forward in LOW.

'Ol Red put the pedal to the metal all the way.
He engaged all thousand horse'.
The Whisperer nudged the Prius along,
Keeping track of the map's winding course.

About a mile from the end of the race,
The jaguar started to sputter.
Then the engine shut down, the car was out of gas,
'Ol Red had to park in the gutter.

Before too long, the Prius caught up,
And the Whisperer slowed a little.
He rolled down his window and called to 'Ol Red,
Who was boiling mad and bitter.

He told 'Ol Red, "The secret, of course,
"Is controlling your fuel and pace.
"And just like the turtle used to say,
Slow and steady wins the race."

The Prius glided toward the finish line,
Lots of fuel left for the run.
Thanks to the miracle of regenerative braking,
The car was far from done.

The Whisperer crossed the finish line
And the town folk erupted with joy.
The Whisperer rolled down his window again
To directly address Red's boys.

"You can find your dad about a mile up the road,"
He told the sullen punks.
"But before you go, bring that beer to the bar,
And it better not be skunked."

The town folk moved off to celebrate.
Young Grace, she made her move.
Leaning into his window to highlight her breasts,
She told him, "I like your groove."

The Whisperer smiled and patted her hand,
And he told her, "You're a nice gal.
"But I'm old enough to be your dad.
"Why don't we just be pals?"

Young Grace stomped off, disappointed by her loss.
The Whisperer's work here was done.
But from out of the shadows leapt evil 'Ol Red.
He was brandishing…a gun!

The Whisperer didn't take time to think,
He simply hit the lead.
Before 'Ol Red could squeeze off a shot,
He was smashed to pulp…quite dead.

Entrails covered the Prius' hood.
'Ol Red was just a smear.
His blood was the same shade as the car:
Red on Red, you just may hear.

The town was happy and gay that day.
The scourge was finally washed clean.
But the Whisperer didn't stay for long.
He quickly split the scene.

He fastened his belt, and for a moment struck a pose,
Like a modern-day knight on his steed.
Then the Prius Whisperer drove off
To find out where that road might lead.