|
I could use a little spin on a red brick floor |
|
in that crazy 'ol bar when Tim locks the door |
|
Where the walls are gonna ring and the strings are gonna bend |
|
and it's a buss on the cheek from all my old lovers again |
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Oh. the Blue Ridge mountains at the fall of the night |
|
it sure feels good when you cross that line |
|
I'll tip my cup and holler at the moon |
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I'll say-a-Great White North ... honey here's to you sleep tight ... |
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I've gone crazy on this road ... with all of this travellin alone, |
|
but the asphalt is burnin' tonight ... |
|
The New England Spring's been good to me |
|
there's been warmth to lend and good lines to sing |
|
But, how I miss my native tongue |
|
'cause ... New York City sorta brings out the stupids in me |
|
I've got one more stop down in Tennessee |
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My sweetheart is there just a-waitin' on me |
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Then it's on down the road kickin' East Texas dust |
|
I'll catch my breath with that hot Houston neon buzzin' |
|
I've gone crazy on this road ... with all of this travellin alone, |
|
but the asphalt is burnin' tonight ... |
|
The New England Spring's been good to me |
|
there's been warmth to lend and good lines to sing |
|
But, how I miss my native tongue |
|
'cause ... New York City sorta brings out the stupids in me |
|
Oh, here comes a little spin on a red brick floor |
|
it's a crazy 'ol bar and Tim's locked the door |
|
The wall's are ringin', the strings are gonna bend |
|
and it's a buss on the cheek from all my old lovers again |
