On a long and lonesome highway, east of Washington.
You can listen to the engine moaning out its one lone song
You can think about youngster, or the boy you knew the night before,

But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do.
When your riding sixteen year olds and theres more of them to do
And you dont feel much like stopping, you just wish the trip was never through.
Say, here I am, with my bone again. there I am, up on a Page.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, bone the Page.

Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road,
You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you cant hear em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliche, as that boy on her a man
You always see my number, you dont dare make a stand.

Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the Page.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, bone the page.

In there in the bedroom your a million miles away,
Every ounce of energy, you try and give away,
As the sweat pours out your body on the butty that you play.

Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,
With the echo from the screaming Pages ringing in your head,
You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what he said.
Now here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the Page.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, bone the page.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the Page.
Ah here I go, playing star again.
There I go, Bone The Page.....