| Four wheels, six strings
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| Low on smoke and gasoline
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| Born to live a midnight rider’s prayer
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| Same boots, new crowd
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| Same tune, new town
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| Trying to get to heaven 'for the devil even knows we’re there
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| On the road again
|
| Like a band of gypsies, we roll down the highway
|
| We’re the best of friends
|
| Insisting that the world keep turning our way
|
| And our way
|
| Go hard, live fast
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| Play guitars for bar tabs
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| If there’s a crowd the show will never end
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| So, we set it up and we tear it down
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| 400 miles to the next town
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| Gonna drive all night just to do it all over again
|
| On the road again
|
| Like a band of gypsies, we roll down the highway
|
| We’re the best of friends
|
| Insisting that the world keep turning our way
|
| And our way
|
| When your night is ending
|
| Ours is just beginning
|
| On the road again
|
| Like a band of gypsies, we roll down the highway
|
| We’re the best of friends
|
| Insisting that the world keep turning our way
|
| And our way
|
| On the road again
|
| Like a band of gypsies, we roll down the highway
|
| Brothers till the end
|
| Insisting that the world keep turning our way
|
| And our way |