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on a long and lonesome highway, east of omaha. |
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You can listen to the engine moaning out it's one lone song |
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You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the night before, |
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But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do. |
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When your riding sixteen hours and there's nothing much to do |
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And you don't feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through. |
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Say, here i am, on the road again. there i am, up on the stage. |
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Here i go, playing star again. |
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There i go, turn the page. |
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Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road, |
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You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold |
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You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode. |
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Most times you can't hear em talk, other times you can. |
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Oh the same old cliche, as that woman on her a man |
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You always see my number, you don't dare make a stand. |
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Here i am, on the road again. there i am, up on the stage. |
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Here i go, playing star again. |
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There i go, turn the page. |
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Out there in the spotlight your a million miles away, |
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Every ounce of energy, you try and give away, |
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As the sweat pours out your body like the music that you play. |
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Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed, |
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With the echo from the amplifiers ringing in your head, |
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You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said. |
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Now here i am, on the road again. there i am, up on the stage. |
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Here i go, playing star again. |
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There i go, turn the page. |
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Here i am, on the road again. there i am, up on the stage. |
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Ah here i go, playing star again. |
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There i go, there i go. |
