(by Jackson Browne & Bryan Garofalo)Now the seats are all emptyLet the roadies take the stagePack it up and tear it downThey're the first to come and last to leaveWorking for that minimum wageThey'll set it up in another townTonight the people were so fineThey waited there in lineAnd when they got up on their feet they made the showAnd that was sweet--But I can hear the soundOf slamming doors and folding chairsAnd that's a sound they'll never knowNow roll them cases out and lift them ampsHaul them trusses down and get'em up them ramps'Cause when it comes to moving meYou guys are the champsBut when that last guitar's been packed awayYou know that I still want to playSo just make sure you got it all set to goBefore you come for my pianoBut the band's on the busAnd they're waiting to goWe've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicagoor Detroit, I don't knowWe do so many shows in a rowAnd these towns all look the sameWe just pass the time in our hotel roomsAnd wander 'round backstageTill those lights come up and we hear that crowdAnd we remember why we cameNow we got country and western on the busR and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereoWe've got rural scenes & magazinesWe've got truckers on the CBWe've got Richard Pryor on the videoWe got time to think of the ones we loveWhile the miles roll awayBut the only time that seems too shortIs the time that we get to playPeople you've got the power over what we doYou can sit there and waitOr you can pull us throughCome along, sing the songYou know you can't go wrong'Cause when that morning sun comes beating downYou're going to wake up in your townBut we'll be scheduled to appearA thousand miles away from here(c) 1977 SWALLOW TURN MUSIC & GIANNI MUSIC