Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Sunday, February 29, 2004

 
But your thoughts will soon be wandering
the way they always do
When you're ridin' sixteen hours
and there's nothin' much to do
And you don't feel much like ridin',
you just wish the trip was through

Well you walk into a restaurant,
strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you
as you're shakin' off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you
but you just want to explode

Most times you can't hear 'em talk,
other times you can
And you always seem outnumbered,
you don't dare make a stand

Out there in the spotlight
you're a million miles away
Every ounce of energy
you try to give away
As the sweat pours out your body
like the music that you play
Later in the evening
as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes from the amplifiers
ringin' in your head
You smoke the day's last cigarette,
rememberin' what she said
Here I am
On the road again

-Bob Seager





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