by Jackson Browne & Bryan Garofalo)



Now the seats are all empty

Let the roadies take the stage

Pack it up and tear it down

They're the first to come and last to leave

Working for that minimum wage

They'll set it up in another town

Tonight the people were so fine

They waited there in line

And when they got up on their feet they made the show

And that was sweet--

But I can hear the sound

Of slamming doors and folding chairs

And that's a sound they'll never know



Now roll them cases out and lift them amps

Haul them trusses down and get'em up them ramps

'Cause when it comes to moving me

You guys are the champs

But when that last guitar's been packed away

You know that I still want to play

So just make sure you got it all set to go

Before you come for my piano



But the band's on the bus

And they're waiting to go

We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago

or Detroit, I don't know

We do so many shows in a row

And these towns all look the same

We just pass the time in our hotel rooms

And wander 'round backstage

Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd

And we remember why we came



Now we got country and western on the bus

R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo

We've got rural scenes & magazines

We've got truckers on the CB

We've got Richard Pryor on the video

We got time to think of the ones we love

While the miles roll away

But the only time that seems too short

Is the time that we get to play



People you've got the power over what we do

You can sit there and wait

Or you can pull us through

Come along, sing the song

You know you can't go wrong

'Cause when that morning sun comes beating down

You're going to wake up in your town

But we'll be scheduled to appear

A thousand miles away from here



(c) 1977 SWALLOW TURN MUSIC & GIANNI MUSIC