| An empty space, a cold dark room
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| You say hello and look for food
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| The coffees strong to get you there
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| The clock is ticking, no time to spare
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| Rig the lights, build the sound
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| Run the cables, check the ground
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| Haul the gear, set the stage
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| It’s never easy to earn our wage
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| 16 beds inside the bus
|
| Step inside be one of us
|
| A roadie’s life is what we choose
|
| And the wheels keep rolling on
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| 7 nights, 7 days
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| Hauling gear this is your way
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| Another town, it never stops
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| Keep moving on till you’re fit to drop
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| We fall asleep to the sound of the road
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| On through the night we move the load
|
| We’re like a family with ups and downs
|
| But in the end, it all calms down
|
| 16 beds inside the bus
|
| Step inside be one of us
|
| A roadie’s life is what we choose
|
| And the wheels keep rolling on
|
| A gypsy’s way is what the choose
|
| Not for all but a chosen few
|
| They sacrifice a normal life
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| To tour the world with no end in sight
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| They live their life to keep the faith
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| And get the band up on the stage
|
| Move the gear, rig the lights
|
| Check the sound, this is their life
|
| 16 beds inside the bus
|
| Step inside be one of us
|
| A roadie’s life is what we choose
|
| And the wheels keep rolling on
|
| A roadie’s life is what they choose
|
| And the wheels keep rolling on |