Got here this morning
Leaving on Saturday
Two nights in Boston
And we're out on the road again
While part of yourself stays with friends that you've made
Rolling the highways
Living the way we do
Not truck driving men
But only half of the gigs, the show
Makes London to Glasgow, seem like down the road you know
But we're out on the road
That's part of the load
The load
Down the road... (repeat)
Pull in for dinner
Home's four thousand miles away
Write to your lady
Not knowing quite just what to say
You only know, you never ask her to wait
Houston in Texas
Two hundred miles or so
Last stop for supper
With just one tuna fish to go
No time to smile, no time to say, one small hello
We're out on the road
Part of the load
The load