Looking back on places I've been to. Funny how it seems that I must travel. And park in towns with roadside dinners. And farmers who watch satellite TV.
How long have you struggled here?. How long have we tried?. Don't turn your back on me. I'm dying inside. . Is there a yearning inside. That keeps the spirit praying.
Sometimes when I hold my head in shame. I forget that I'm the one to blame. If I fall aimless on an endless journey. I'm beat up, broken, busted, angry.
Talkin' 'bout you and me is nothin' short of a jubilee. Everythin' you gave to me is mine. The things I didn't quite demand now I finally understand. And this I'll say until the day I die.