Pop's Song

Hey Son, how you been? I hear that Los Angeles can turn boys to men Yeah well, hey Pop ya k ow, it's not quite like that It's more like they turn dreams into cold, hard facts And I feel like coming home I feel all alone Somewhere in Nebraska A ghost of the Boss's harp blows And somewhere on I-80 an 18-wheeler rolls And there's a little boy riding shotgun His Papa's listening to Hoyt Axton and they're trying to find the alphabet in the license plates as they pass 'em And I miss you I'm sorry I never tell you But a man has got an ego that won't let him say what he needs to Like, "I feel like coming home I feel all alone." And I feel like coming home I feel all alone Hey Son, how you been? I hear that Los Angeles can turn boys to men