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On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha |
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You can listen to the engine, moanin out as one long song |
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You can think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before |
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And your thoughts will soon be wandering the way they always do |
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When you're riding sixteen hours and there's nothing much to do |
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You don't feel much like traveling, you just wish the trip was through |
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|
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But here I am, on the road again |
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Here I am, up on the stage |
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Here I go, playing the star again |
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There I go, turn the page |
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You walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road |
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And you feel the eyes upon you, as you're 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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Sometimes you can here 'em talk, other times you can't |
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All the same 'ole cliches: is that a woman or a man? |
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And you always seem outnumbered, you dare not make a stand |
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But here I am, on the road again |
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Here I am, up on the stage |
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Here I go, playing the 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 to give away |
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And the sweat pours from 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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Echos of the amplifiers, ringing in your head |
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As you smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said |
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But here I am, on the road again |
[04:43.76] |
Here I am, up on the stage |
[04:50.10] |
Here I go, playing the star again |
[04:56.51] |
There I go, turn the page |