Sun come up in the morning
|
Blues round my head
|
I've got a troubled mind and plenty of time to roam
|
As I walk this crooked highway
|
Never knowin' where to go
|
You know the only life I know is bein' on the road
|
|
I've got holes in my shoes that I fill with paper
|
When the sun's out they dry
|
And when it rains well they get wet but I don't cry
|
|
Because the sun don't know no difference
|
Between a rich man and a bum
|
And the only life I know is movin' round the sky
|
|
See him grin down at you people
|
I guess you don't know what his laughter's from
|
But if you spend enough time on the road
|
Maybe you'd find out
|
Because the sun goes round in an endless circle
|
Never knowin' the reason why
|
Still there's something in the path that it traces round the sky
|
It's like a circle with no ending
|
But it's a race we all must run
|
And it's the same bein' a rich man or a bum
|
|
-----------------
|
Sun Come Up
|
| Jim Croce |
