Dust on the Rearview

Then I tore it into little pieces and let the warm night take them where they go.
My Chevrolet rolled past the diner where I used to wait for your call.
The jukebox played a brand-new record,
And I did not turn around at all.
I paid my dues to yesterday,
Now the night is calling my name.
Call my name.
Dust on the rearview, I am free to choose.
Dust on the rearview, got a whole new night to use.
Yes, I do.
I pressed my Sunday suit for midnight,
Put a bright dime in the payphone slot.
Told my friends I would meet them downtown where the brass band makes the pavement hot.
No shadow hanging from my shoulder,
No promise pulling at my sleeve.