Road Ode - Loudon Wainwright III

(On the road again

Paying my back taxes, road again)

Well, you walk into the room and switch on the TV

And there’s Phil Donahue or Oprah Winfrey

And suddenly you don’t feel so lonely

Even though you’re out on the road

Open up that drawer and there’s that bible

God’s honest truth, but you’re not liable

To use it you prefer myth and libel

That’s 'cause you’re out on the road

There’s baby shampoo, no you’re not sloppy

Losing your toothbrush is your hobby

Lucky they sell that stuff in the lobby

Lucky that you’re out on the road

Out on the road, out on the road

You’re Willy Lowman, and you’re Tom Jode

Vladimir and Estragon, Kerouac, Ghengis Khan

Out on the road, out on the road

'Keep on going' is your creed and code

It’s a different way of life, it’s a whole other mode

Living out on the road

Well, you’re packin' 'em in so we did ok

But the people from the record company didn’t pay

So there’s no percentage, though it looks that way

Man, it’s funny when you’re out on the road

It’s your fault, you didn’t draw

There was a item in the paper that nobody saw

When business is bad then

There ought to be a law against you out on the road

There’s people to avoid, places to miss

Backstage access, who need this?

The club is a toilet when you gota' take a piss in the sink

When you’re out on the road

Out on the road, out on the road

You’re Willy Lowman, and you’re Tom Jode

Vladimir and Estragon, Kerouac, Ghengis Khan

Out on the road, out on the road

That’s where your wild oats where sowed

You start out a prince and you end up a toad

Living out on the road

Room service is a trick, rarely a treat

So you go for a bite that can’t be beat

But how many patty melts can one man eat

When he’s eating out on the road?

A cat eats a fish, a dog eats a bone

Out on the road, a man eats alone

Time to reflect and to atone for his sins out on the road

Runnin' through airports at 43 is ok for OJ but not for me

With a hernia, a bad back and a bum knee and a guitar out on the road

Out on the road, out on the road

You’re Willy Lowman, and you’re Tom Jode

Vladimir and Estragon, Kerouac, Ghengis Khan

Out on the road, out on the road

The flight’s been canceled, you should have known

The airport is your new abode

Living out on the road

(Let's go!)

When it’s time to come back to reality

You’re roadsick and you’re half crazy

So you fit right in quite naturally

Home from out on the road

Back to see family and friends

And to face the music and to make amends

But coming up for air, you can get the bends

In from out on the road

Open that bag, go on, expose it

Open that window, hold you nose

It’s eight weeks worth of dirty cloths

In from out on the road

Willie Nelson has a bus, and a sound man he can kick and cuss

And a road manager to make a fuss, Willie goes out on the road

A roadie caries his guitar, and in that bus is a VCR

Well Willie deserves it, he’s a big old star

Willie goes out on the road

So Willie goes out for weeks at a time

Makes a ton of money, it’s a life sublime

But for me it’s punishment and crime

Why do I go out on the road?

Out on the road, out on the road

I’m not Willy Nelson, I’m Tom Jode

Vladimir and Estragon, Kerouac, Ghengis Khan

Out on the road, out on the road

'Keep on going' is your creed and code

But if you keep on going, you’re going to explode

Living out on the road