Truckin'

Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Jerry Garcia/Bob Weir/Phil Lesh

A mainstay of the Grateful Dead's concert performances, and now played by Ratdog, Phil Lesh & Friends, The Other Ones etc.

Truckin' got my chips cashed in
Keep truckin' like the doodah man
Together, more or less in line
Just keep truckin' on

Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on Main Street
Chicago, New York, Detroit and its all the same street
Your typical city involved in a typical daydream
Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings

Dallas got a soft machine
Houston too close to New Orleans
New York got the ways and means
But just won't let you be

Most of the cats that you meet on the street speak of true love
Most of the time they're sitting and crying at home
One of these days they know they gotta get going
Out of the door and into the street all alone

Truckin' like the doodah man
Once told me "Gotta play your hand
Sometimes the cards ain't worth a dime
If you don't lay them down"

Sometimes the lights all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been

What in the world ever became of sweet Jane? (note 1)
She lost her sparkle you know she isn't the same
Living on reds and vitamin C and cocaine
All her friends can say is ain't it a shame

Truckin' up to Buffalo
Been thinking you got to mellow slow
Takes time, you pick a place to go
Just keep truckin' on

Sitting and staring out of the hotel window
Got a tip they're gonna kick the door in again
Like to get some sleep before I travel
But if you got a warrant I guess you're gonna come in

Busted down on Bourbon Street
Set up like a bowling pin
Knocked down, it gets to wearing thin
They just won't let you be

You're sick of hanging around, you'd like to travel
Get tired of travelling you want to settle down
I guess they can't revoke your soul for trying
Get out of the door, light out and look all around

Sometimes the lights all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been

Truckin' I'm a going home
Whoa, whoa, baby, back where I belong
Back home, sit down and patch my bones
And get back truckin' on

Once in a while when the music gets into the street
Fifty old ladies buck every cop on the beat
They're putting the lock on Lindley Meadow and Kezar
Beginning to look like we can't play in the park

S.F. - that's an open town
Sometimes, it even makes a sound
Caution, spread the word around
Before them mother-truckers close it down

Enjoy yourself if just because
Later than you thought it was
Just in case you're in the pink
It's later than you thought, I think
Take it away, take it away

Enjoy yourself if only that
There's more than one way to skin a cat
Stop at the teeth and keep it neat
So even [skindy] lands on his feet
Take it away, take it away

What in the world ever became of sweet Jane?
Since she had a sex change you know she isn't the same
[or: Ever since she went and had her frontal lobes changed ...]
Living on valium, ginseng and Contra cocaine
All her friends say ain't it a fuckin' shame