traveling tune - the lower 48 lyrics
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i left chicago with the summer time
as the yawning nights drew to a close
couldn’t get the smell of gr-ss and cheap red wine
out of my mind
headlights on for it was growing dim
like signal fires to the moon
young and free and on my own again
whistling a traveling tune
whistling a traveling tune
the map sprawls out like a prophecy
the road paves over an old wound
though my soul is like a flock of geese
headed home to soon
whistling a traveling tune
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