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Somewhere in the back bar, by the side of a motorway |
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Someone takes a breath and takes the stage then starts to play |
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In the back of a thousand bars and by the side of a thousand roads |
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One word, rusted bones and on is toil explode |
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They cast long shadows in the evening sun |
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But when the morning comes they've moved along |
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They cast long shadows in the evening sun |
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But when the morning comes they've moved along |
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Hey, hey, Mr. Dylan, I have written you a song |
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For the river of the singers that still rolls along |
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So here's to Ragan, and here Marwood |
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Here's to Tim and Jonah too |
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Here's to the ones who have to take the stage and sing the tune |
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They cast long shadows in the evening sun |
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But when the morning comes they've moved along |
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They cast long shadows in the evening sun |
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But when the morning comes they've moved along |
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Sing 'til you sweat for the spirit of the age |
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Sing life to lines that are dead on the page |
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Sing for your sorrow, your wisdom, your rage |
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Sing out |
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Sing for the records you played 'til they broke |
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For the parts you insisted that nobody spoke |
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Sing for the words that you knew, but they still made you choke |
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Cast a long shadows in the evening sun |
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And when the morning comes, pass it along |
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Cast a long shadows in the evening sun |
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But when the morning comes, pass it along |
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Cast a long shadows in the evening sun |
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And when the morning comes, pass it along |
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Cast a long shadows in the evening sun |
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And when the morning comes, pass it along |
