John Hiatt Follow

I've been riding on this train
Drinking whiskey for the pain
Just another good old boy going home
And every town I see
Seems to take a part of me
That's a price that you pay when you roam

And I lie when I have to
And I cry when I can
But I die a little slower
On the train to Birmingham

I got holes in both my shoes
And a guitar full of blues
A one-way ticket for a remedy
It's the same old lonesome song
I've been singing all night long
Hey porter, are we out of Tennessee?

And I cry when I have to
And I lie when I can
But I die a little slower
On the train to Birmingham

Every year I ride this train
To Alabama in the rain
When I get that lonesome feeling in my bones
But I never get to Birmingham
But getting there is not the plan
No, I just like the feel of going home

And I lie when I have to
And I cry when I can
But I die a little slower
On the train to Birmingham