On a greyhound bus, Lord I'm traveling this morning I'm going to Shreveport and on down to New Orleans Been driving these highways, Been doing things my way It's been making me lonesome on'ry and mean Now her hair was jet black, And her name was Codene

Who's that loungin' in my chair? Who's that castin' devious stares in my direction? Mama, this surely is a dream, yeah And I smell sex and candy here Hanging 'round downtown by myself And I've had so much time to sit and think about myself And there she

Run 'em through your hair And we can get to rockin' There you are and baby, here I am But I need something to do with my hands So maybe I should stick 'em in your pockets And I need something to do with my hands I need something to do with my hands Well

It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear She'll put on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair And then she asks me, do I look all right? And I say, yes, you look wonderful tonight We go to a party and everyone turns to see

Everything I love is there inside She's got long blonde hair and deep big eyes I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line Got an old dog, it don't like me much That thing starts to bark his head off

She's a tomboy Move along boy Tangled hair and bruises on her knees Always has a way of saying 'no way' Some people don't get her, but that's okay Tomboy, Hail Mary Never needs a dress to make her pretty She's a killjoy, such a let down Daddy tried to

From up and down, and still somehow I've looked at life from both sides now It's life's illusions I recall I really don't know life at all Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere I've looked at clouds

We're walking the wire, love We're walking the wire, wire, wire So look out down below Look out down below We're gonna be higher, up And we'll take what comes, take what comes Feel the wind in your hair Feel the rush way up here Walking the wire, wire,

Now we're listenin' to old Alabama A little dixieland delight and it feels so right Oh, play me some old Alabama She'd rather wear a pair of cut-off jeans Than a fancy evening dress And with her windows rolled down And her hair all blown around She's a

She's working on a tan Working on a tan Soaking up the sun Getting next to nothing done Chilling in a chair Flower in her hair Margarita in her hand She's sitting in the sand, She's got the focus