Out on the road 200 days a year Blowing smoke and grinding gears My bones are aching from this northern cold Baby’s crying on the telephone Momma says I’ve been gone too long This whiskey I’ve been drinking alone is sure getting old
This old highway don’t seem to end Counting the days ‘til I’m home again Bus wheels turning from town to town I wish I could set this circus down I’ve had enough, I’m punching out ‘Cause this whole thing Is headed south, headed south
One more night at the 8 Days Inn I need to hold my baby again These four damn walls are closing in on me Unpacking my bags just to pack ‘em again Don’t want you to see the shape I’m in I could sure use some shade from a live oak tree
This old highway don’t seem to end Counting the days ‘til I’m home again Bus wheels turning from town to town I wish I could set this circus down I’ve had enough, I’m punching out ‘Cause this old boy is headed south
The Sewanee River, the Mason Dixon Her pretty face, all the things I’m missing I’m headed south, headed south
This old highway’s coming to an end Today’s the day I’m coming home again Bus wheels coming right to my town I just set this circus down I’ve had enough, I’m punching out I’m coming home I’m headed south, headed south I’m headed south
I’m blowing smoke, grinding gears I’m headed south, headed south I’m headed southTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
