|
I packed up and spent a week traveling east on the Interstate |
|
On a pittance for a fast food diet and some toothpaste |
|
I can remedy along gettin' drunk, gettin' stoned |
|
Then I'm back to my good old ways |
|
Open arms at the bar for the prodigal son who often goes astray |
|
For now the waking world can wait |
|
To sing your blues away |
|
And hope for better days |
|
Pick an old song |
|
Then we'll dance in the dark |
|
It's that needle and thread |
|
Stitch up my broken heart! |
|
I cave in, I black out, I bottle up until I pick a fight |
|
Then I raise a bloody fist in a salute to every passerby |
|
For the law man's sake I might bend but I won't break |
|
That part I leave for lovers in life |
|
This is my right to keep quiet, I'll reserve it for some other time |
|
For now the waking world can wait |
|
To sing your blues away |
|
And hope for better days |
|
And pick an old song |
|
Then we'll dance in the dark |
|
It's that needle and thread |
|
Stitch up my broken heart! |
|
Cuff me up and take me in |
|
So I can sleep an hour or two |
|
Just me and the gross criminals |
|
Singing loud with nothing to lose |
|
Oh Lord, the music save their soul |
|
When nothing's right |
|
We'll rock and roll |
|
For now the waking world can wait |
|
To sing your blues away |
|
Hope for better days |
|
Pick an old song |
|
Then we'll dance in the dark |
|
It's that needle and thread... |