The Trip - Dave Rawlings Machine
Tuning: , E A D G B E
"The Trip" - Dave Rawlings Machine - Nashville Obsolete - 2015
Transcribed by wranglingoutlaw
Intro - | | | | |
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Whistles blow
ing, people ge
t on trains
Without knowin
g where They'r
e going
Someone's Dau
ghter, someone
's Sister,
someone's Teac
her going down
the road
With a body,
a handkerchief
,
And a hatchet
from an unspea
kable crime
But there's n
o one waiting
for Them,
There's no jud
gement down th
e line
Banjos ring a
nd chickens sq
uall,
And little ba
bies crow
The winter le
aves, and the
spring unwinds
,
And summer com
es again You k
now
Pink is the c
olour of My tr
ue love's dres
s,
And black is t
he colour of H
er heart
But I could n
ever leave old
Virgini',
And so it neve
r parts
Ebony face, e
bony nails,
Ebony coffin o
n the rails
Moving south,
C-O-D,
Going home to
mother
Some said for
valor, for gl
ory,
for treasure,
for pride
Sometimes bro
ther hates bro
ther
So take a trip
wherever Your
conscience ha
s to roam
It's much too
hard to try to
live a lie at
home
My boots are c
racked with ro
ad dirt and as
phalt,
Spit, and brok
en dreams
Chewing gum a
nd safety pins
,
All what hold
Me in at the s
eams
My pegs are l
oose, my screw
s too tightly
wound to get i
n tune
But I still tr
y sometimes on
those golden
summer afterno
ons
So take a trip
wherever Your
conscience ha
s to roam
It's much too
hard to try to
live a lie at
home
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There's a pic
ture of an old
black man,
In a beaver h
at
He wears a hi
dden smile
And a pair of
white spats
Don't pretend
You didn't no
tice His stare
You're edgy, a
nd sweating, a
nd loaded for
bear
The skeletons
dance tonight,
Bring Your bot
tle and Your b
oots
And Your mand
olin that Bian
ca -
Alatorre tried
to shoot
Oh but what's
a bullet hole
or two betwee
n friends ?
And who can sa
y when the wel
l goes dry or
where the stor
y ends ?
So take a trip
wherever Your
conscience ha
s to roam
It's much too
hard to try to
live a lie at
home
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Hotel lives a
nd hotel wives
That come and
go with the sh
eets
Ah, But what's
a marriage
If it can't b
e held up to k
itchen heat?
Once I knew e
ach valley of
that beautiful
shore
But I don't go
to the summer
fair much any
more
So take a trip
wherever Your
conscience sa
ys to roam
It's much too
much to try to
live a lie at
home
Your harmonic
a is blown bab
y,
Throw it away
Your denim sh
irt is ragged
And Your dirty
collar is fra
yed
I tried to pl
ay My horn for
You, but I co
uldn't seem to
find a note
So I picked up
pen and paper
, and this is
what I wrote
Go take a trip
wherever Your
conscience ha
s to roam
It's much too
hard to try to
live a lie at
home
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