| On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha
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| You can listen to the engine moanin' out its one note song
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| Or you can think of the woman, the girl you knew the night before
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| Your thoughts will soon be wondering the way they always do
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| When your ridin' sixteen hours and there’s notning much to do
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| And you don’t feel much like ridin' you just wish the trip was through
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| Here I am on the road again
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| There I am up on the stage
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| Here I go playin' star again
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| There I go turn the page
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| Well you walk in to a restaraunt strung out from the road
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| You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold
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| You pretend it doesn’t bother you but you just want to explode
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| Most times you can’t hear 'em talk other times you can
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| All the same old cliches is that a woman or a man
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| And you always seem outnumbered you don’t dare make a stand
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| Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed
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| The echoes of the amplifiers ringin' in your head
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| You smoke the days last cigarette tryin' to remember what she said |