Well, I'm walkin' down the highway
|
With my suitcase in my hand
|
Yes, I'm walkin' down the highway
|
With my suitcase in my hand
|
Lord, I really miss my baby
|
She's in some far-of land.
|
|
Well, your streets are gettin' empty
|
Lord your highway's gettin' filled
|
And your streets are gettin' empty
|
And your highway's gettin' filled
|
Well, the way I love that woman
|
I swear it's bound to get me killed.
|
|
Well, I been gamblin' so long
|
Lord, I ain't got much more to lose
|
Yes, I been gamblin' so long
|
Lord, I ain't got much more to lose
|
Right now I'm havin' trouble
|
Please don't take away my highway shoes.
|
|
Well, I'm bound to get lucky, baby
|
Or I'm bound to die tryin'
|
Yes, I'm a-bound to get lucky, baby
|
Lord, Lord I'm a-bound to die tryin'
|
Well, meet me in the middle of the ocean
|
And we'll leave this ol' highway behind.
|
|
Well, the ocean took my baby
|
My baby stole my heart from me
|
Yes, the ocean took my baby
|
My baby took my heart from me
|
She packed it all up in a suitcase
|
Lord, she took it away to Italy, Italy.
|
|
So, I'm walkin' down your highway
|
Just as far my poor eyes can see
|
Yes, I'm a-walkin' down your highway
|
Just as far my eyes can see
|
From the Golden Gate Bridge
|
All the way to the Statue of Liberty.
|
|
-----------------
|
Down The Highway
|
Bob Dylan |