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• Headed South • | by Van Zant
Out on the road 200 days a year
Blowing smoke and grinding gears
My bones are aching from this northern cold
Babyís crying on the telephone
Momma says Iíve been gone too long
This whiskey Iíve been drinking alone is sure getting old

(Chorus 1:)
This old highway donít seem to end
Counting the days Ďtil Iím home again
Bus wheels turning from town to town
I wish I could set this circus down
Iíve had enough, Iím punching out
ĎCause this whole thing
Is headed south, headed south

One more night at the 8 Days Inn
I need to hold my baby again
These four damn walls are closing in on me
Unpacking my bags just to pack Ďem again
Donít want you to see the shape Iím in
I could sure use some shade from a live oak tree

(Chorus 2:)
This old highway donít seem to end
Counting the days Ďtil Iím home again
Bus wheels turning from town to town
I wish I could set this circus down
Iíve had enough, Iím punching out
ĎCause this old boy is headed south

The Sewanee River, the Mason Dixon
Her pretty face, all the things Iím missing
Iím headed south, headed south

(Chorus 3:)
This old highwayís coming to an end
Todayís the day Iím coming home again
Bus wheels coming right to my town
I just set this circus down
Iíve had enough, Iím punching out
Iím coming home
Iím headed south, headed south
Iím headed south

Iím blowing smoke, grinding gears
Iím headed south, headed south
Iím headed south
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