Steve Earle - The Low Highway lyrics
[Steve Earle - The Low Highway lyrics]
Traveling out on the low highway
Three thousand miles to the Frisco Bay
'Cross the rivers wild and
The lonesome plains
Up the coast and down and back again
Saw empty houses on a dead end street
People lining up for something to eat
And the ghost of America watching me
Through the broken windows of the factories
Naked bones of a better day
As I rolled down the low highway
Traveling out on the low highway
By the yellow moon and the light of day
From the snow white crown
On the mountain tall
To the valley down where the shadows fall
Met a man with a rifle in his hand
Been away to battle in a distant land
Taught him to hate, taught him to kill
Now he’s out on the road with a hole to fill
Nobody knows the price he paid
So he takes his toll on the low highway
Traveling out on the low highway
Windows down, listening
Wheels turning round on the asphalt sing
Every sound is a prophecy
Heard an old man grumble, a young girl cry
Brick wall crumble and the white dove fly
And a cry for justice and a call for peace
The voice of reason and the roar of the beast
And every mile is a prayer I prayed
As I rolled down the low highway
Three thousand miles to the Frisco Bay
'Cross the rivers wild and
The lonesome plains
Up the coast and down and back again
Saw empty houses on a dead end street
People lining up for something to eat
And the ghost of America watching me
Through the broken windows of the factories
Naked bones of a better day
As I rolled down the low highway
Traveling out on the low highway
By the yellow moon and the light of day
From the snow white crown
On the mountain tall
To the valley down where the shadows fall
Met a man with a rifle in his hand
Been away to battle in a distant land
Taught him to hate, taught him to kill
Now he’s out on the road with a hole to fill
Nobody knows the price he paid
So he takes his toll on the low highway
Traveling out on the low highway
Windows down, listening
Wheels turning round on the asphalt sing
Every sound is a prophecy
Heard an old man grumble, a young girl cry
Brick wall crumble and the white dove fly
And a cry for justice and a call for peace
The voice of reason and the roar of the beast
And every mile is a prayer I prayed
As I rolled down the low highway