Four on the floor, knock on the door It`s finally a quarter to eight and Looks like everybody`s ready and waiting
One of the guys, little beady eyes I guess he`s feeling bad `cause he can`t go I said "I`m sorry bud, you`ve gotta stay home"
Friday`s gone and I`m feeling fine Saturday`s been on my mind Sun comes up on yellow lines Through the gears and the road unwinds Friday night`s been left behind me, don`t remind me `Cause I never really wanted to be there It didn`t matter that I was living for free there
Seventy-five, down Skelly Drive I got a funny feeling I`m falling and I think that mother nature is calling
Bike`s running fine, since 1969 I`d run it wide open but I`d hit a rail I don`t really want to spend another night in jail
Four on the floor, half dozen more Everybody stayed until morning Someone in the back room is snoring
Downstairs outside, still black as night Sun is coming up in an hour or two I`m wide awake and wondering what to do
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