When I'm on the road
I have but one thing to think about
When I'm on the road.

When I'm on the road
I stay up as late as I please
When I'm on the road.

When I'm on the road
I can sleep during the day
Have a stranger mouth words to my face
As if she has something to say
As if she knows me maybe
As if she has something underneath
She'd like to show me
As if she were a tree
That might outgrow me
As I wave about year after year
The same old skinny sapling
When I'm on the road.

When I'm on the road
I get to miss her
It's so easy to misuse her
She has so many faces to fall for
When I'm on the road.

When I'm on the road
She eyes the sunset like Picasso
Whatever that means
I hope she knows what she means
She presses the address on the envelope
Like a flower to her lips
Hoping I won't let her down
She hangs up her gown
In an old hotel room and frowns at herself
In the three-way mirror
Her hands on her hips knowing
(As only a woman's hands can know)
That when she steps out this evening
I'll have my arm around her
Just there
The smooth dress and all the rest
And the sidewalk will tilt
And come up for air
when I'm on the road.

When I'm on the road
I have but one thing to think about:
The music will be over before we know it
It's a leaky boat, but it's the right boat
And I'm still young enough to row it
It's Gabriel's horn and it's stolen
And I'm just fool enough to blow it
The world is a garden
And these songs are nothing but a bagfull of seed
And the ground is thorny
And you know where I'm going with this
So there's no need to come out and say it
I'll just do it
And let the whole world grow into my kind of blue
When I'm on the road.

. . .

copyright 2000, Linford Detweiler