| It’s a long strecth of highway
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| At midnight in New Mexico
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| It’s a small colored light
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| That shines from your car radio
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| It’s the old motel owner
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| Who sleeps on a cot
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| And gives you the very last cup from his pot
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| It’s a lonely feeling, it’s what you’ve got
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| It’s a lonely feeling, like it or not
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| It’s the crack in the sidewalk
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| Right next to a pay telephone
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| It’s someone’s recorder
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| When you’re hoping someone is home
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| It’s an hour to kill
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| To do what you please
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| But nobody’s up for shooting the breeze
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| It’s a lonely feeling, it’s like a disease
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| It’s a lonely feeling, you pray that it leaves
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| It’s three men from Chile
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| Who are tired and they want to go home
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| They’ve run out of money
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| And they’re stuck up in east Oregon
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| So you give ‘em the small bit of change in your hand
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| You try to speak Spanish but they don’t understand
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| It’s a lonely feeling, it gets to a man
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| It’s a lonely feeling, that runs through the land
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| It’s your best friend from high school
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| Who sees you and wishes you well
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| You try to breakthrough
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| But you run out of stories to tell
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| So you bid him goodbye and you step into space
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| There are so many questions that you cannot face
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| It’s a lonely feeling, taking his place
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| It’s a lonely feeling, you just can’t erase
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| It’s statue of Jesus your grandmother had when she died
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| All cracked and all yellow
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| And you know you should throw it aside
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| But you’re growing religious, the older you get
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| You haven’t been saved
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| But it could happen yet
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| It’s a lonely feeling, full of regret
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| It’s a lonely feeling, won’t let you forget
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| It’s a bus stop, a street cop, an old dog, the new kid, a bum
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| It’s fright and rejected
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| Neglected, and blind, deaf and dumb
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| But you look in the mirror
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| And you’re still hanging in
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| It’s there to remind you how lucky you’ve been
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| It’s a lonely feeling, now and again
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| It’s only a feeling that comes now and then… |