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Time to Get Gone

Sante Fe headed southwest 25, Albuquerque, overdrive, loaded up with all I own.
Not slowiní it down quite near enough to long enough to call anyplace my home.
In my rear view mirror thereís a memory I know will slowly fade away.
I put my foot on the red line and follow that white line to San Antone.

Now itís time to get gone, with the morniní sun.
Iíve done my time while I still can Iím gonna cut and run.
Iíll be moviní on. The road ahead is long.
Itís a way of life for a rambliní, traveliní son of a gun.


Now and then I think Iíll settle down, find a little piece of ground, never be again alone.
Gonna spend my days on through the nights, liviní right, a life that Iíve never known.
Hidden deep inside of me a cold windís blowiní and I know itís all in vain.
When that rooster crows youíll see my taillights headiní on down the road.

Now itís time to get gone, with the morniní sun.
Iíve done my time while I still can Iím gonna cut and run.
Iíll be moviní on. The road ahead is long.
Itís a way of life for a rambliní, traveliní son of a gun.


Sante Fe headed southwest 25, Albuquerque, overdrive, loaded up with all I own.
Not slowiní it down quite near enough to long enough to call anyplace my home.
In my rear view mirror thereís a memory I know will slowly fade away.
I put my foot on the red line and follow that white line to San Antone.

Now itís time to get gone, with the morniní sun.
Iíve done my time while I still can Iím gonna cut and run.
Iíll be moviní on. The road ahead is long.
Itís a way of life for a rambliní, traveliní son of a gun.

© 2007 Mike Parrish -All Rights Reserved




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© 2004 Mike Parrish -All Rights Reserved