Road

I really ought to go to bed,
There's nothing here for me.
The day's sorry song's been sung
The bread's been won,
The handcuffs are on,
The damage is done.
And the race has been run,
And the hoping has gone,
Along with the fun,
And the set of the sun
And the love has been wrung
Now I'm holding a gun
And it's weighing a tonne,
On the road that I'm on.
On this road that I'm on.