Lonely Living on the Road
Words and Music by Christopher White


I've been living out of a suitcase,
Since the day I first was born.
The only women I've ever known,
Are the women in the porn.
My socks are made of plastic,
And my underwear is torn.
It's lonely living on the road.

My body ain't nothing but a corpse,
On a pair of crooked feet.
The wind blows through my ears,
As it goes running down the street.
I ain't got no friends,
And I ain't got no food to eat,
It's lonely living on the road.

Get me a bottle of booze,
To complement these walking blues.
Papa needs a new pair of shoes,
To take him to town.
And it's lonely living on the road,
But it's lonely no matter where you live,
Because everybody in the whole world lives alone.

My house back home is broken,
I saw it once in a photo.
They say that it was burned down,
By a fire-breathing comodo.
My family all died when I was barely alive,
And that's all she wrote, oh,
It's lonely living on the road.

Lord, get me a bottle of booze,
To complement these walking blues.
Papa needs a new pair of shoes,
To take him to town.
And it's lonely living on the road,
But it's lonely no matter where you live,
Because everybody in the whole world lives alone.

© Christopher White 2003

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