22 traffic lights
And 13 miles of highway
Us 1 south, in St Augustine
There\'s nothing more I can say
Well, It\'s tortured me so
This forsaken stretch of road
As though I\'m walking over coals
This old city is a prison
Where no one ever listens
And these miles, all I\'ve been is in
So many cars speed by
As the running sands of time,
And. Here I am, stuck up on this line
The blisters sprout up on my feet
To increase the pain of my defeat
And constantly erase my sole\'s relief
22 traffic lights
Are all I ever see
And I suffer in my silence
For it\'s all I\'ll ever be
well, The Thousandth time I strolled
Down this damned old stretch of road
I knew I had no where else to go
And when the holes in my shoes
Well, they Once again grew
I knew there was nothing left to do
This city always makes me feel
Like a ragged hamster on a wheel
Running circles for another pellet meal
Sometimes I wish I could fly
In a brand new caddy ride, and
Leave those tired traffic lights behind
22 traffic lights
And as many pairs of shoes
I\'d sure love to see some new sights,
but I\'ll be walking till I\'m through
22 traffic lights
And 13 miles of highway
Us 1 south, in St Augustine
There\'s nothing more I can say