Из альбома: Draw the Curtains
Been beat up and kicked around, I picked myself up off the ground,
I head east to another town, I'm movin' on.
Barroom fights and breakin' glass,
A broken nose and a smoker's laugh,
I'm sure I've probably cut my life in half.
With a suitcase full of empty dreams,
A guitar with broken strings,
A busted heart that longs to sing the blues,
A mind that always leads me wrong,
A head full of Hank Williams songs..
I'm sorry, honey, but this highway's home.
I've loved pretty women and some that ain't.
I'm a burned-out junkie, truck stop saint.
So check the tires and fill the tank, I'm movin' on.
Interstate markers and highways signs,
18 wheels and thin white lines,
Dodge a speed trap one more time, I'm gone.
With a suitcase full of empty dreams,
A guitar with broken strings,
A busted heart that longs to sing the blues,
A mind that always leads me wrong,
A head full of Hank Williams songs..
I'm sorry, honey, but this highway's home.
It's so hard to leave you here this way,
With a white dress and a goodbye wave,
But there's mouths to feed and bills to pay.
I'm sorry, honey, I've got to go.
With a suitcase full of empty dreams,
A guitar with broken strings,
A busted heart that longs to sing the blues,
A mind that always leads me wrong,
A head full of Hank Williams songs..
I'm sorry, honey, but this highway's home.
I'm sorry, honey, but this highway's home.