I wait on tables here Ain’t quite how I planned it Pay’s not that great, but I do alright in tips
I took the job to get me by When my husband left me stranded I still don’t know just where the hell he is
After dark, six nights a week I pull this apron snug Glance up at a dusty TV blaring local news
Then I’m everybody’s best friend Dealing coffee like a drug The whole place smells like fries and diesel fuel
Every shift is different And every shift’s the same Someone’s driving to the Promised Land Or they’re running from the pain It’s mostly long-haul truckers, runaways and thieves Everybody’s got somewhere to go They all stop here on their way to Mexico
I still think about that gal Who came from Tucumcari Off to find her sister that she just found out she had
And those young lovers on the run She wasn’t old enough to marry Then the cops showed up with one really pissed off dad
Every shift is different And every shift’s the same Someone’s driving to the Promised Land Or they’re running from the pain It’s mostly long-haul truckers, runaways and thieves Everybody’s got somewhere to go They all stop here on their way to Mexico
With each passing of a season I wonder if I’m stuck Or maybe I’m waitin’ for a reason Or a helping of good luck
It’s mostly long-haul truckers, runaways and me Maybe I’ll head south again, who knows We all stop here on our way to MexicoTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
