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I gave up the fast lane for a blacktop county road |
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Just burned out on all that talk about [Incomprehensible] |
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I traded for a songbird, a bigger piece of sky |
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When I miss the good old days I can't imagine why |
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Still I get restless and drive into town |
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I cruise once down Main street and turn back around |
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It's crazy but God knows I don't act my age |
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Like an old desperado who paints the town beige |
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Down along the river, past the swimming hole |
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You can find your piece of mind with just a fishing pole |
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And you can walk the river for miles and miles on end |
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And never stop believing in that dream around the bend |
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But still I get restless and drive into town |
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My radio playing, my window roll down |
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It's crazy but God knows I don't act my age |
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Like an old desperado who paints the town beige |
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Deep down in the winter, time slows to a crawl |
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There's really nothing much to do until the first spring thaw |
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It's then I get to thinking I must have gone insane |
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Memories roll through my mind like a long slow railroad train |
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Still I get restless and drive into town |
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Watch the world through a windshield as it all comes unwind |
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It's crazy but God knows I don't act my age |
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Like those old desperadoes who paint the town beige |
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I gave up the fast lane |
