decaying rooftops have decaying goals throw it away set yourself free run to the ocean don't worry 'bout me i have lots of friends and the road has
Words & music: don henley ** chantal would occasionally play a piano version of this song (a top 5 hit for don henley in 1984) during her early performances
Call me the breeze I keep blowin' down the road Well, now they call me the breeze I keep blowin' down the road I ain't got me nobody I don't carry me
me wrong Been a long, long, long, long, long time Since I Call me up when the night is over Call me up when the night has gone I'll turn around on the road
On the first day of May I took to the road I'd been staring out the window most of the morning I'd watched the rain claw at the glass And a vicious wind
couple of friends I'm in pretty good shape for the shape I'm in pretty good shape for the shape I'm in It seems like life is a mighty tough road But
have lost all sense to me And their meaning is not clear Tell me, tell me if you know what's going on I can't believe there is no answer From the road
Hidden inside him Music in the dark This conquering kindness To all in his quiver Burdened hard On the road By law all are wounded That you may know You
shook off the ice and snow Boarded his sleigh and then yelled "Lets go!" All the little toys were happy too cause they were so bright and new A little piano
One for the road every evening till I found out pretty soon It took two to wake me up every morning two with my buddy at noon Two for the road every
I walked one day along a country road and there a stranger journeyed too Bent low beneath the burden of his load it was the cross the cross I knew Take
'll be better Until the kindling is tinder dry We can be quiet As we walk down To see the graveyard Where they are now I wonder how They brought their piano
Stop joking around for one minute I'd rather cry right now And play those sad notes on the piano Let the rest of the band go home 'Cause I'll lead you
Tim: Aww, thank you. Taylor: And uh, you know so I kinda just thought about that first and so it pointed to the song and just sat down at that piano
me five hundred bucks to shut my mouth I'll never play Jacksonville I'll never have that weird thrill I'll never play Jacksonville again, again The road
on telly With your long hair and pimples (Pop, pop) We arrived at the gig looking rough Not happy, we'd all had enough of eight hours on the road Legs
down on an iron frame and found myself in Bedlam Escaping from the fingers that were stretching through the bars Wailing echoes down the corridors The player piano