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The Load-Out
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by Jackson Browne and Bryan Garofalo
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Now the seats are all empty
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Let the roadies take the stage
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Pack it up and tear it down
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They¡¯re the first to come and last to leave
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Working for that minimum wage
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They¡¯ll set it up in another town
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Tonight the people were so fine
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They waited there in line
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And when they got up on their feet they made the show
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And that was sweet--
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But I can hear the sound
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Of slamming doors and folding chairs
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And that¡¯s a sound they¡¯ll never know
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Now roll them cases out and lift them amps
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Haul them trusses down and get¡¯em up them ramps
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¡¯Cause when it comes to moving me
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You guys are the champs
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But when that last guitar¡¯s been packed away
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You know that I still want to play
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So just make sure you got it all set to go
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Before you come for my piano
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But the band¡¯s on the bus
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And they¡¯re waiting to go
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We¡¯ve got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago
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or Detroit, I don¡¯t know
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We do so many shows in a row
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And these towns all look the same
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We just pass the time in our hotel rooms
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And wander ¡¯round backstage
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Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd
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And we remember why we came
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Now we got country and western on the bus
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R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo
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We¡¯ve got rural scenes and magazines
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We¡¯ve got truckers on the CB
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We¡¯ve got Richard Pryor on the video
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We got time to think of the ones we love
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While the miles roll away
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But the only time that seems too short
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Is the time that we get to play
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People you¡¯ve got the power over what we do
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You can sit there and wait
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Or you can pull us through
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Come along, sing the song
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You know you can¡¯t go wrong
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¡¯Cause when that morning sun comes beating down
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You¡¯re going to wake up in your town
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But we¡¯ll be scheduled to appear
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A thousand miles away from here
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The road-out
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Jackson Browne |