I'll apologize, but I'll try make it unclear
And I love this city, but I'm really not from here.
Now I gotta leave this town as a washed up stuntman.
In a beat up coupe I imagine is a Mustang.
There's a voice in my head singing, "I'll turn it around."
But I'm on a highway, honey, tearing up the East bound.
There's a man out there smiling like a dying king.
Laughing at my soul, searching for anything.
And I got mine, I am a rock, I am an owl.
And I got mine, I'm shaking ground, I'm faking found in my little tune.
These days I'm searching for the great unknown.
Wondering if Paul Simon ever had a pillow.
Found me a place I can make a couple tables turn.
Just one more wick with a couple more bridges to burn...
And I am a child, yet I've gotta let my spirit go.
A few more years before I hitch a ride home.
I got bones to break and miles to go alone.
One day of still riding like a?
And I got mine, I am a rock, I am an owl.
And I got mine, I'm shaking ground, I'm faking found in my little tune.
I'm still tall and made of stone, but I still can't rest on my own.
I'm on my own.
