The cradle wants a baby Kitchen wants a pan The heart wants a certain kind of lover if it can
Ocean wants a sailor Gun wants a hand money wants a spender And the road wants a man
I turned my face to the highway And I turn my back on you
Devil wants a sinner Sky wants a bird Table wants the dinner Lips want a word
Glass wants the wine Fist wants to hurt Clock wants the time And the shovel wants to work
I turned my face to the highway And I turn my back on you
I’m going away I’m going away
Coal wants a miner Soldier takes a stand The walls of the prison Want a solitary man The window wants a curtain The plow wants the land Diamond ring wants to Fit upon the finger Of her hand
I turned my face to the highway And I turned my back on you