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I live the kinda life most men only dream of |
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I make my livin' writin' songs and singin' them |
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But I'm forty-one years old and I ain't got no place to go |
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When it's over |
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So I hide my age and make the stage and |
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Try to kick the footlights out again |
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I throw my old guitar across the stage and |
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Then my bassman takes the ball |
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And the crowd goes nearly wild to see |
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My guitar nearly fall |
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After twenty years of pickin' we're still alive |
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And kickin' and kickin' down the wall |
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Tonight we'll kick the footlights out |
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And walk away without a curtain call |
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Tonight we'll kick the footlights out again |
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And try to hide the mood we're really in |
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Might not put on our old Instamatic grin |
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Tonight we'll kick the footlights out again |
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I live the kinda life most men only dream of |
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And I make my livin' writin' songs and singin' them |
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But I'm fortysome years old and I ain't got no place to go |
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When it's over |
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So I hide my age and make the stage and |
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Try to kick the footlights out again |
