| Every night you are lyin’in a different bed
|
| Every mornin’you don’t know where you’re wakin'
|
| Everyday you drag yourself from place to place
|
| Tryin’to find the time to keep your body fed
|
| There are times when you’ll wonder what your travelin’for
|
| Never reaching a final destination
|
| There are times when you’re lonesome and you long for home
|
| And you feel you just can’t take it any more
|
| Well there’ll be times when you’ll fall asleep while standing up And you can’t recall your name or station
|
| Just about the time you think you’ve had enough
|
| You gotta go, time to do your show
|
| But the sound of the crowd makes you feel all right
|
| When the building is full and they turn down the lights
|
| When the fans starts to roar and there’s magic in sight
|
| I would trade places with no one tonight
|
| The sound of the crowd makes it all worth while
|
| When the place starts to shake and they dance in the aisle
|
| When they’re up on their feet and the music is right
|
| I would trade places with nobody else alive
|
| Yonder comes the hawkshaw
|
| I wish I knew why he gets paid
|
| To criticize what other people do Well some are kind in what they write
|
| They’re fair in what they say
|
| But he’s gone blind in both his ears
|
| Because his head got in the way
|
| After all is said and done
|
| A poison pen will fail
|
| But he who writes with pick in hand
|
| Will finally prevail
|
| © 1976 Rambunctious Music (ASCAP) |