| Only time I see my friends
|
| Is on the posters in the bar room wall
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| Only time I hear their voice
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| Is in a drunken late-night hotel call
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| See you’re out in Houston
|
| I’m giggin' in L.A.
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| Maybe we’ll cross paths
|
| One of these days
|
| This business breaks your heart
|
| It’s a big old mean machine
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| It’ll grind your bones to make your bread
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| And then piss all over your dreams
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| That ain’t why we do this
|
| If it was we wouldn’t last long
|
| No, we’re all hooked on the power of a song
|
| May our beds be soft
|
| Coffee strong and hot
|
| May the angels of the blacktop
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| Keep our souls from getting lost
|
| If there’s a patron saint of troubadours
|
| On the road from here to there
|
| Watch over us
|
| That’s my three-chord poet’s prayer
|
| It’s gonna be some real hard nights
|
| And some holes in the wall
|
| The next night you’ll be on top of the world
|
| The next morning you might fall
|
| Things we miss back home
|
| Are never lost on me
|
| Kids growing up, funerals, anniversaries
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| I didn’t choose this life
|
| This travelin' life chose me
|
| I was born to be a gypsy
|
| So that’s what I’ll always be
|
| Have a good next show
|
| Keep it between the lines
|
| Know you’re always in my heart and on my mind
|
| May our beds be soft
|
| Coffee strong and hot
|
| May the angels of the blacktop
|
| Keep our souls from getting lost
|
| If there’s a patron saint of troubadours
|
| On the road from here to there
|
| Watch over us
|
| That’s my three-chord poet’s prayer
|
| Watch over my friends
|
| That’s my three-chord poet’s prayer |