| Well he’s following the broken lines
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| Living on borrowed time
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| Motel rooms and broken hearts all left behind
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| You swear he couldn’t close his eyes
|
| As he shifts into overdrive
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| He’s been up and down this road so many times
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| The man of his own
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| And searching just keeps him proving
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| That only the road
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| Can tame the rebel in his soul
|
| It’s the rhythm of the highway
|
| As he rolls on down
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| And city lights as they fade from sight
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| Drives the man behind the driving wheels
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| Like a cowboy in a rodeo
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| Riding hard but never letting go
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| You’ll be wand’ring through the twilight of his life
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| Waylon Jennings on the radio
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| Country music and engines roar
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| Like a shooting star across a desert sky
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| And he’s got a home
|
| But it’s out on the blue horizon
|
| Heaven only knows
|
| There’s still a rebel in his soul
|
| It’s the rhythm of the highway
|
| As he rolls on down
|
| And city lights as they fade from sight
|
| Drives the man behind the driving wheels
|
| And chasing southern lights
|
| In the distant sky
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| And open plains with the mountains high
|
| Drives the man behind the driving wheels
|
| Well he’s thought about settling down
|
| A little diner on the edge of town
|
| But in this world of push and shove
|
| He’s still got freedom in his blood
|
| It’s the rhythm of the highway… |