Brent Kirby Walk All Over Those Streets
You might find yourself sitting at home
You might just feel alone
Thinking about what she said
So grab your jacket,
grab your pack
For me there’s no going back
No telling what’s ahead
Cause Las Vegas got the gamblers
San Francisco’s got the beats
New York and high roll ramblers
I just wanna walk all over those streets
Gonna chase the setting sun
Like an outlaw on the run
Lid beating out a cry
Cause there’s just gotta be something there
Fighting through a far away stare
Without even wondering why
This highways filled with heroes
There all chancing for their cue
Somewhere out there in the distance
I see all those reminders of you
See all those reminders of you
Gotta keep it cool, keep it real
Never tell them how you feel
And if they ask you what you’ve heard
You just tell ‘em!
