Tim Hardin Turn The Page
On a long and lonesome highway, east of omaha.
You can listen to the engine moaning out its one lone
song
You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the
night before,
But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they
always do.
When your riding sixteen hours and theres nothing much
to do
And you dont feel much like riding, you just wish the
trip was through.
Say, here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on
the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the
road,
You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the
cold
You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to
explode.
Most times you cant hear em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliche, as that woman on her a man
You always see my number, you dont dare make a stand.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the
stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Out there in the spotlight your a million miles away,
Every ounce of energy, you try and give away,
As the sweat pours out your body like the music that
you play.
Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,
With the echo from the amplifiers ringing in your head,
You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she
said.
Now here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the
stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the
stage.
Ah here I go, playing star again.
There I go, there I go.
