This city will not sleep tonight. I hear sirens as I walk down 59th. I New York City, lost under a gray sky, I thought I heard my name through the sound of the pouring rain.
We`re the troops from the west and we never rest. We`re the boys, we`re the boys on the open road. For east to west we;ve done our best. We`re the boys, we`re the boys on the open road. I hear my hometown calling.
I rememver all the emptiness I thought I left behind, As I checked into a brick hotel on 11th adn 59th. I see my name on the neon lit marquee. Maybe the emptiness was always meant to be.
We`re the troppes from the west and we never rest. We`re the boys, we`re the boys on the open road. From east to west we`ve done our best. We`re the boys, we`re the boys on the open road. I hear my hometown calling.
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