Six Hours Ahead Of The Sun Lyrics - Steve Goodman

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One more night in a transatlantic city
the clocks all run on someone elses time
and the streets run so close to the houses
but none of them run into mine
and the people are all in a hurry
and the whiskey's as cheap as the beer
and the skyline looks just like that postcard I sent you
and darlin' I wish you were here.
Some folks travel for pleasure
and other folks just born to roam
Some folks can't stand the pressure and some folks never come home
I only go where I have to go and I only come home when I'm done
and If everything's right I'll be home Friday night
Six Hours ahead of the sun.
One more night in a transatlantic city
you buy one round for everyone in sight
you order up the same old glass of trouble
but trouble just don't taste the same tonight
and the local bartender tells you the stories
and the local lovelies dance before your eyes
and they call that dance old "Younger's Tartan"
and I can't get all this blood out of my eyes
Some folks drink when they're happy
Some folks drink when they're dry
Some folks drinks so they don't have to think
and some folks drink till they dies:
Drinking just gives me amnesia
but the devil has a list of those who run
run, win, place, and show
and nowhere to go, and six hours ahead of the sun.

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