She's a serial killer.

Know the Number
© Allison Lonsdale 1999
Live at Lestat's, Disc One, Track 6

I am just a way station on some lonely track
Where the trains pass through from innocence to wisdom
Once you’ve crossed those station gates there is no turning back
Because the charity I give is far from Christian

        Do not try to count the wheels that pass here in the night
        Counting things will only lead to slumber
        And we have waking business to conduct before it's light
        Besides, you do not need to know the number
        No, I do not think you need to know the number

I am just a roadhouse among the smoky hills
A whiskey bar where old boys tell their stories
The bartender gets prettier with every glass she fills
As she feeds the young men dreams of faded glories

        Do not try to count the names they've written on my walls
        Counting things will only lead to slumber
        Put a quarter in the jukebox; there's one dance before last call
        Besides, you do not need to know the number
        No, I do not think you need to know the number

            Don't ask too many questions, boy, don't try to stick around
            I was not made for anything but travel
            Don't think of me as property, don't try to pin me down
            You can't go planting roses in the gravel

I am just a Texaco along some desert road
Where the empty and the broken stop for service
They're grateful for the chance to rest from carrying their load
And for the highway maps I give them when they're nervous

        Do not try to count what's in the junkyard out in back
        Counting things will only lead to slumber
        There's work to do by sunrise; get that chassis on the rack
        Besides, you do not need to know the number
        No, I do not think you need to know the number