| E | A | |
| Truckin' got my chips cashed in, keep | truckin like the doo-dah man |
| B | A | E | |
| Together more or less in line, | just keep truckin' on. |
| E | |
| Arrows of neon and flashin marquees out on Main Street |
| Chicago, New York, Detroit and it's all on the same street |
| Your typical city involved in a typical daydream, Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings |
| . |
| E | A | |
| Dallas got a soft machine, | Houston too close to New Orleans |
| B | A | E | |
| New York got the ways and means; | They just wont let you be |
| E | |
| Most of the cats that you meet on the street speak of true love, |
| Most of the time they're sittin and cryin at home. |
| One of these days they knbow they gotta get goin' out of the door and down to the street |
| all alone. |
| E | A | |
| Truckin' like the doo dah man once | told me "You've got to play your hand. |
| B | A | |
| Sometimes, the cards ain't worth a dime | if you don't lay 'em down. |
| A | G | D | A | |
| Sometimes the lights all shinin' on me |
| D | A | G | D | A | |
| Other times I can | barely | see |
| D | B | F# | |
| Lately it oc | curs to | me |
| A | E | |
| What a | long strange trip it's | been! |
| E | |
| What in the world ever became of Sweet Jane? She lost her sparkle you know she isn't |
| the same |
| Livin' on reds, Vitamin C and cocaine- All a friend can say is ain't it a shame |
| E | A | |
| Truckin' up to Buffalo, been | thinkin' you've got to mellow slow |
| B | A | E | |
| Takes time, you pick a place to go, | just keep truckin' on. |
| E | |
| Sittin' and starin' out of the hotel window, got a tip they're gonna kick the door in |
| again |
| I'd like to get some sleep before I travel but if you got a warrant, I guess you're gonna |
| come in. |
| E | A | |
| Busted down on Bourbon Street, | set up like a bowlin' pin |
| B | A | E | |
| Knocked down, it gets to wearin' thin, | they just won't let you be. |
| E | |
| You're sick of hangin' around, you'd like to travel, get tired of travellin', you want |
| to settle down. |
| I guess they cant revoke your soul for tryin', get out of the door, light out and look al |
| l around. |
| Chorus |
| E | A | |
| Truckin' I'm a-goin' home, whoa whoa | baby, back where I belong |
| B | A | E | |
| Back home, sit down and patch my bones and | get back truckin on. |