So tell me why we got to die
And kill each other one by one
We’ve got to love and rub-a-dub
We’ve got to dance and be in love
But what I really want to know is
Are you gonna go my way?
And I got to got to know
Are you gonna go my way?
'Cause baby I got to know
Yeah
This road leads to Rainbowville,
Going my way,
Up ahead is Blue Bird Hill,
Going my way.
The long and winding road
That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I’ve seen that road before
It always leads me here
Lead me to you door
Third boxcar, midnight train, destination, Bangor, Maine.
Old worn out clothes and shoes,
I don’t pay no union dues,
I smoke old stogies I have found short, but not too big around
I’m a man of means by no means, king of the road.
Hit the road Jack and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more,
Hit the road Jack and don’t you come back no more,
What you say?
Here’s a little diddy 'bout Jack and Diane,
Two American kids growing up in the heartland…
I like to be in America!
O.K. by me in America!
Ev’rything free in America,
For a small fee in America!
Oh yeah,
All right,
Take it easy baby, make it last all night,
She was an American girl…
American woman, stay away from me
American woman, mama let me be
Don’t come hangin’ around my door
I don’t wanna see your face no more
I got more important things to do
Than spend my time growin’ old with you
We’re an American band,
We’re an American band,
We’re comin’ to your town,
We’ll help you party down,
We’re an American band.
Casey would waltz with a Strawberry blond,
And the band played on,
He’d glide across the floor with the girl he adored,
And the band played on…
Casey joins the hollow sound of silent people walking down
The stairway to the subway in the shadows down below;
Following their footsteps through the neon-darkened corridors
Of silent desperation, never speakin’ to a soul.
Driving that train, high on cocaine,
Casey Jones you better watch your speed
Trouble ahead, trouble behind
And you know that notion just crossed my mind
They took Bart Simpson to the grave yard
and they buried him in the sand (oh, yeah)
and every locomotive that comes rolling by
says there lies a steel driving man (lord, lord, oh)
there lies a steel driving man
Freight train, Freight train, run so fast
Freight train, Freight train, run so fast
Please don’t tell what train I’m on
They won’t know what route I’ve gone
When I am dead and in my grave
No more good times here I crave
Place the stones at my head and feet
Tell them all that I’ve gone to sleep.
When I die, Lord, bury me deep
Way down on old Chestnut street
Then I can hear old Number 9
As she comes rolling by.
Ah! Bowakawa pousse' pousse' Ah! Bowakawa pousse’ pousse
( Dream #9 by J.Lennon)
They gave him his orders in Monroe, Virginia
Sayin’ “Steve, you’re a way behind time
This is not 38, she’s Old 97,
You must put her into Spencer on time.”
So he turned and he said to his tired, greasy fireman,
“Just shovel on a little more coal,
And when we get to White Oak Mountain,
We can watch Old 97 roll!”
Giving up I close my eyes,
Sitting cross-legged on the floor,
25 or 6 to 4
25 or 6 to 4
It’s quarter to three; there’s no one in the place 'cept you and me,
So set em up Joe; I got a little story I think you oughta know,
Were drinking my friend, to the end of a brief episode,
So make it one for my baby, and one more for the road.
Next stop Chi town, Lido put the money down, let 'em roll
He said one more job ought to get it
One last shot ‘fore we quit it
One for the road
Lido
Whoah oh oh oh
He’s for the money, he’s for the show
Lido’s waitin’ for the go, Lido
Whoah oh oh oh oh oh
He said one more job ought to get it
One last shot 'fore we quit it
One more for the road