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
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