The Traveling Man

It was six days past the seventh I was on the road again Putting distance in the rear Of the places I had been Left that girl in Amarillo The one in those nice blue jeans Headed for San Francisco In that city filled with drag queens It’s been three years since I’ve seen home Guess I’d better retrace and head on out Mama is probably still praying You can bet on that no doubt After all that time chasing rainbows And all that time wasting space I’m right back where I started Boy I still love this old home place Found a different crowd down at Floppy’s But still sipping on wicked brew Still playing eight-ball And eating up that bar-b-que The mayor’s not the same Seems everything’s changed round here Guess I’ll join this different crowd And have another cold beer I see all those girls I dated Done up and got themselves married off Bankers, realtors and a mayor’s son Except for Sarah who landed one of the cloth Things aren’t the same as I left them Time stands still for no one So I’ll say good bye again to mama And get this rig on a western run I’m pulling into Waco Dog tired with eyes are turning red I’m signing off for the evening And getting myself ready for bed