Well, it's five o'clock this morning,
and the mist is slowly moving through the fields.
The first bird starts a-singing
and its echo tells the moon it's time to yield.
I shake my drowsy head and rub the remnants of my sleep out of my eyes,
and though my bedroll's cozy, I know it must time for me to rise.

For six long months the highway called,
but I knew that I just could not go.
But late last night its whispering
were answered somewhere deep inside my soul.
And though I hate for you to find an empty bed beside you when you wake,
that hobo highway calling me was just too much for this poor boy to take.

Heading up the canyon as the sun starts to sparklin' on the dew.
My feet are on this highway, but Lord knows that my mind is still on you.
Try to understand that there was nothing really more that I could do.
Got two holes in my jeans, and I'm walking with a stone inside my shoe.

Half mile up the highway there's a farmhouse that was emptied long ago.
I shinny up an apple tree, and eat my free-ride breakfast on the go.
The sun shimmers puddles on the pavement that aren't really there
and I notice that I'm thirsty, but I notice that I don't seem to care.

A farmer in a pickup stops to see if there's something that I need.
I catch a ride to town and help to load supplies and fifteen sacks of feed.
Then I fill my empty canteen and once again I'm headed on my way.
Smiling at the sunshine, praise the Lord it's another perfect day.

Heading up the canyon as the sun starts to sparkling on the dew.
My feet are on this highway, but Lord knows that my mind is still on you.
Try to understand that there was nothing really more that I could do.
Got two holes in my jeans, and I'm walking with a stone inside my shoe.

Your love is like a stone inside my shoe...

Copyright © 1974 John C. Goerlich