Friday night is rolling in, I’m heading down to the old taverna inn Guitar case in my hand, so lite, - hear boots tapping from the joints floor The guesthouse glows like amber, warm light spilling in the street Verse 2 Out on the strip the engines roar, neon buzzing in the summer heat Pretty girls are laughing loud, summer wind in their hair, indian-summer in the air Fast cars slide like shadows, tires humming steady beats Solo Bridge The night wind’s running with me, down the long and dusty mile Streetlights flicker softly, like they’re trying hard to smile I hear the highway calling, with a low and distant tune And every step I’m taking keeps me walking with the blues Verse 3 Back in the pub I’m playing low, walking blues in A‑minor tone Glasses clink in rhythm, stories rising like smoke and stone The night drifts on in laughter, old songs floating through the room And when the sunrise finds me, I’ll be walking home with the blues
