People stay just a little bit longer   We want to play -- just a little bit longer   Now the promoter don't mind   And the union don't mind   If we take a little time   And we leave it all behind and sing   One more song      Now the seats are all empty   Let the roadies take the stage   Pack it up and tear it down   They're the first to come and last to leave   Working for that minimum wage   They'll set it up in another town   Tonight the people were so fine   They waited there in line   And when they got up on their feet they made the show   And that was sweet--   But I can hear the sound   Of slamming doors and folding chairs   And that's a sound they'll never know   Now roll them cases out and lift them amps   Haul them trusses down and get'em up them ramps   'Cause when it comes to moving me   You guys are the champs   But when that last guitar's been packed away   You know that I still want to play   So just make sure you got it all set to go   Before you come for my piano   But the band's on the bus   And they're waiting to go   We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago   or Detroit, I don't know   We do so many shows in a row   And these towns all look the same   We just pass the time in our hotel rooms   And wander 'round backstage   Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd   And we remember why we came   Now we got country and western on the bus   R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo   We've got rural scenes & magazines   We've got truckers on the CB   We've got Richard Pryor on the video   We got time to think of the ones we love   While the miles roll away   But the only time that seems too short   Is the time that we get to play   People you've got the power over what we do   You can sit there and wait   Or you can pull us through   Come along, sing the song   You know you can't go wrong   'Cause when that morning sun comes beating down   You're going to wake up in your town   But we'll be scheduled to appear   A thousand miles away from here