Mileage has taken its toll, painted with lines to show,
Am Em G
You've had your fill of asphalt, cough tremors and smoke-filled doors.
Look like the habit controls you, look like you need a rest,
Am Em G D
You've made it to the teller line, don't know what to expect.
God knows you don't need it,
Too early you might be the one.
Find yourself someone else,
Too early in the sun.
Song strains distant over the barroom drink-filled roar,
The old folksinger lays it down, not for long, no longer ignored.
Spinning tales of temptation, of gambling days lost and won,
No crimes committed here, too much habit could be the one.
Never seen half of what you've seen, real life never quite adds up.
The road goes on when the faces don't, word of mouth never tells the truth.
I'd like to hear your story told with a two-step beat and rhyme,
Could be Tennessee or Texas, on and on the mad road winds.