rollin' on some lonesome highway east of omaha,
you can listen to the engine rollin' out as one long song.
you can think about the women
or the whore you mongered the night before.

(i'm really feeling those lighters).

sometimes you can't hear him talk, other times you can.
all them same old cliches, is that sage or xaul zan?
and you always feel outnumbered
when you go to the scribble jam.

uh, ah, uh uh, ah...say, here i am, on the road again.
here i am, i'm on the stage.
here i go, i'm playin' the star again.
here i go, my name is strange.

(this is the real motherfuckin' deal ya'll. i'm really feelin' those lighters).

when you walk into the restaurant, strung out from the road,
you can feel the eyes upon you as you're shakin' off the cold.
you pretend it doesn't bother you
when they ask if they can download.
uh, ah, uh uh, ah...later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,
with the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head.
you smoked the day's last mc,
ridiculing what he said.

uh, ah, uh uh, ah...say, here i am, on the road again.
here i am, i'm on the stage.
here i go, i'm playin' the star again.
here i go, my name is strange.

i said here i am, on the road again.
here i am, i'm up on the stage.
i said here i go, i'm playin' the star again.
here i go, here i go.