| G | C | |
| Mileage has taken its toll, painted with | lines to show, |
| Am | Em | G | D | |
| You've had your fill of asphalt | , cough tremors and smoke-filled doors. |
| G | C | |
| Look like the habit c | ontrols you, look like you need a rest, |
| Am | Em | G | D | |
| You've m | ade it to th | e teller line, don't k | now what to expect. |
| (chorus) |
| Am | C | |
| God know | s you don't need it, |
| Em | G | |
| Too earl | y you might be the one. |
| D | |
| Find yourself some | one else, |
| C | |
| Too ear | ly in the sun. |
| Song strains distant over the barroom drink-filled roar, |
| The old folksinger lays it down, not for long, no longer ignored. |
| Spinning tales of temptation, of gambling days lost and won, |
| No crimes committed here, too much habit could be the one. |
| (chorus) |
| Never seen half of what you've seen, real life never quite adds up. |
| The road goes on when the faces don't, word of mouth never tells the truth. |
| I'd like to hear your story told with a two-step beat and rhyme, |
| Could be Tennessee or Texas, on and on the mad road winds. |
| (chorus) |