87 Southbound

Well, I caught you with him
 on those damp satin sheets,
 So I packed my things
 and then I hit the streets
 87 southbound
 to San Antone
 It's getting late out,
 I ain't got no home
 The pavements burning
 at ninety-two
 I don't need to hear no more excuses
 that I don't love you
 Lord, the sun keeps beating me down
 and it's hotter than hell
 And if I'm lucky I'll catch a ride,
 but you can never tell
 I'd rather be here with the bugs and flies
 than back there hearing your alibis
 Heard all that I'm gonna hear you say,
 I'm gonna take my pride and go the other way
 87 southbound
 to San Antone
 It's getting late out,
 I'm 40 miles from home
 The rain keeps falling
 like the tears in my eyes,
 I'm just trying to wash away
 the hurt from all your lies
 Lightning streaks across the evening sky
 and if I'm lucky I'll make it big
 or lay right down and die
 I know when the morning comes
 I'm gonna be a walking son of a gun.
 When afternoon comes rolling around,
 I'll have ten more miles and one more town
 87 southbound,
 to San Antone
 It's getting late out,
 I ain't got no home
 The pavements burning,
 at a hundred and two
 I don't need to hear no more excuses
 that I don't love you
 I don't need to hear no more excuses
 that I don't love you