I left home when I was seventeen.
I just grew tired of falling down.
And I'm sure I was told
The allure of the road
Would be all I found.
And all the answers that I started with
Turned out questions in the end.
So years roll on by,
And just like the sky,
The road never ends.
And the people who love me still ask me;
When are you coming back to town?
And I answer quite frankly;
When they stop building roads,
And all God needs is gravity to hold me down.
And the people who love me still ask me;
When are you coming back to town?
And I answer quite frankly;
When they stop building roads,
And there ain't no more highways to be found.
And I answer quite frankly;
When they stop building roads,
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