On a long, lonesome highway east of Omaha
You can listen to the engine moanin' out its one-note song.
You can think about the woman or the girl you knew the night before.
But your thoughts will soon be wandering the way they always do,
When you're ridin' sixteen hours and there's nothin' much to do.
And you don't feel much like ridin', you just wish the trip was through.
--
Turn the PageBob Seger
Seger, Bob
Sei Shonagon
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