Pop's Song

Hey Son, how you been?
I hear that Los Angeles
can turn boys to men
Yeah well, hey Pop
ya k ow, it's not quite like that
It's more like they turn dreams
into cold, hard facts

And I feel like coming home
I feel all alone

Somewhere in Nebraska
A ghost of the Boss's harp blows
And somewhere on I-80
an 18-wheeler rolls
And there's a little boy
riding shotgun
His Papa's listening to Hoyt Axton
and they're trying to find the alphabet
in the license plates as they pass 'em

And I miss you
I'm sorry I never tell you
But a man has got an ego
that won't let him say
what he needs to

Like, "I feel like coming home
I feel all alone."

And I feel like coming home
I feel all alone
Hey Son, how you been?
I hear that Los Angeles
can turn boys to men



Credits
Writer(s): Clay Rose Ellenburg
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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