Turn The Page

On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha
You can listen to the engines moaning out his one-note song
You'd think about the woman or the girl you knew the night before
But your thoughts will soon be wandering the way they always do
When you're riding sixteen hours there's nothing much to do
And you don't feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through

Here I am, on the road again there I am, up on the stage
There I go, playing star again there I go, turn the page
Now here I am, on the road again there I am, up on the stage
Here I go, playing the star again there I go, turn the page

So you walk into this restaurant, all strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you, as you're shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode
Most times you can't hear them talk, other times you can
All the same old clichés: "Is it woman? Is it man?"
And you always seem outnumbered, you don't dare make a stand make your 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 of the amplifiers ringing in your head
You smoke the day's last cigarette, remembering what she said what she said