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Browne Jackson Running On Empty THE LOAD-OUT 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 |
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