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Truckin' got my chips cashed in. |
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Keep truckin', like the do-dah man |
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Together, more or less in line, |
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just keep truckin' on. |
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Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on Main Street. |
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Chicago, New York, Detroit and it's all on the same street. |
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Your typical city involved in a typical daydream |
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Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings. |
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Dallas, got a soft machine; |
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Houston, too close to New Orleans; |
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New York's got the ways and means; |
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but just won't let you be, oh no. |
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Most of the cats that you meet on the street speak of true love, |
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Most of the time they're sittin' and cryin' at home. |
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One of these days they know they better get goin' |
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Out of the door and down on the streets all alone. |
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Truckin', like the do-dah man. |
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Once told me "You've got to play your hand" |
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Sometimes your cards ain't worth a dime, |
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if you don't lay'em down, |
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Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me; |
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Other times I can barely see. |
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Lately it occurs to me |
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What a long, strange trip it's been. |
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What in the world ever became of sweet Jane? |
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She lost her sparkle, you know she isn't the same |
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Livin' on reds, vitamin C, and cocaine, |
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All a friend can say is "Ain't it a shame?" |
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Truckin', up to Buffalo. |
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Been thinkin', you got to mellow slow |
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Takes time, you pick a place to go, |
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and just keep truckin' on. |
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Sittin' and starin' out of the hotel window. |
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Got a tip they're gonna kick the door in again |
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I'd like to get some sleep before I travel, |
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But if you got a warrant, I guess you're gonna come in. |
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Busted, down on Bourbon Street, |
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Set up, like a bowlin' pin. |
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Knocked down, it get's to wearin' thin. |
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They just won't let you be |
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You're sick of hangin' around and you'd like to travel; |
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Get tired of travelin' and you want to settle down. |
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I guess they can't revoke your soul for tryin', |
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Get out of the door and light out and look all around. |
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Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me; |
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Other times I can barely see. |
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Lately it occurs to me |
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What a long, strange trip it's been. |
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Truckin', I'm a goin' home. |
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Whoa whoa baby, back where I belong, |
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Back home, sit down and patch my bones, |
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and get back truckin' on. |
