| On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha
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| You can listen to the engines
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| Moanin' Out its one note song
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| You can think about the woman or the girl
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| You knew the night before
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| But your thoughts will soon be wandering
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| The way they always do
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| When you're ridin' sixteen hours
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| And there's nothin' much to do
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| And you don't feel much like riding
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| 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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| There I go, Playin' star again
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| There I go, Turn The Page
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| So you walk into this restaurant
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| Strung out from the road
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| And you feel the eyes upon you
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| As you're shaking off the cold
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| You pretend it doesn't bother you
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| But you just want to explode
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| Yeah, most times you can't hear 'em talk
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| But other times you can
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| All the same old clichés:
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| "Is it woman? Is it man?"
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| And you always seem outnumbered
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| You don't dare make a stand
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| Make your stand
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| Here I am, On the road again
|
| There I am, Up on the stage
|
| Here I go, Playn' star again
|
| There I go, Turn The Page
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| Whoa-oh
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| Out there in the spotlight, you're a million miles away
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| Every ounce of energy, you try and give away
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| As the sweat pours out your body, like the music that you play
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| Later in the evenin' as you lie awake in bed
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| With the echoes of the amplifiers ringin' in your head
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| You smoke the day's last cigarette
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| Rememberin' what she said
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| What she said
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| (Yeah, what she said.)
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| Yeah
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| Here I am, on the road again
|
| There I am, up on the stage
|
| Here I go, playn' star again
|
| There I go, Turn The Page
|
| And there I go, turn that page
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| There I go, yeah
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| There I go, there I go
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| (And I'm gone) |