Rolling Stone

I'll apologize, but I'll try to make it unclear
And I love this city, but I'm really not from here
Now I gotta leave this town as a washed up stuntman
In a beat up coupe I imagine is a Mustang

There's a voice in my head singing, "I'll turn it around"
But I'm on a highway, honey, tearing up the East bound
There's a man out there smiling like a dying king
Laughing at my soul, searching for anything

And I got mine
I am a rock, I am an owl
And I got mine
I'm shaking ground, I'm faking found in my little tune

These days I'm searching for the great unknown
Wondering if Paul Simon ever had a pillow
Found me a place I can make a couple tables turn
Just one more wick, with a couple more bridges to burn

And I am a child, yet I've gotta let my spirit go
A few more years before I hitch a ride home
And I got bones to break and miles to go alone
One day, I'm still riding like I may have gone

And I got mine
I am a rock, I am an owl
And I got mine
I'm shaking ground, I'm faking found in my little tune

I'm still tall and made of stone
But I still can't rest on my own
I'm still tall and made of stone
But I still can't rest on my own
I'm on my own