I gave you my last box of matches
Do you remember when
We were living up in the Klondike
And you had run out of gin
Truck driving friend of mine said
You was in the noose
Director of the asylum
Decided to turn you loose

Eskimo Pies comin' to you, oh yeah
Eskimo Pies comin' to you
Yeah burning to you straight from hell

Twenty-two years of Motor City madness
Living in Lincoln Park
Working up at Willow Run
Driving through the dark
I-94 so full of holes
I seem to hit everyone
Tranq city makes me feel the rain
Under cold grey sun

Eskimo Pies comin' to you, oh yeah
Eskimo Pies comin' to you
Yeah burning to you straight from hell

I gave you a six pack of Stroh's
You never drank 'em down
You keep drinking rolling rock
You know I can't hang round
You got Garland Jeffreys on the car radio
You know I don't need you
You can go to Europe with Jean-Paul
Or anything you wanna do

Eskimo Pies comin' to you, oh yeah
Eskimo Pies comin' to you
Yeah burning to you straight from hell

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