Lyrics

ON THE FLOOR-BOARD
written by Thomas Michael Riley

Driving into San Antonio today;
Heading south along that highway interstate;
Got a guitar and a moon-pie; a cola and some cigs;
A small town dreamer dreamin' bout being big.
I'm in a '63 Impala, Chevrolet; Stopping anywhere I please along the way;
Gettin' ten miles to a gallon; quart o' oil each hundred miles;
Everything I own is carefully tossed into a pile;

Chorus:
I got 2 or 3 long-necks along for the ride;
Got a HelpWanted section from the classified;
And a one carat diamond I'm tryin' to hide
On the floorboard of the passenger's side;
On the floorboard of the passenger's side.

This old road map's like a diary to me;
I've traced every place I've ever been or seen;
Like that town this side of Austin where I stayed a bit too long;
If leaving her was right how come it feels so wrong?
Don't want to think about that woman anymore;
Or the reflection of her memory on the floor.
I'm looking down the road, tomorrow's a new day;
Not sure if I'm running towards my dreams or running away;

Chorus:
I got 2 or 3 long-necks along for the ride;
Got a HelpWanted section from the classified;
And a one carat diamond I'm tryin' to hide
On the floorboard of the passenger's side;
On the floorboard of the passenger's side.

I'm tuning in the radio; I'm a long, long way from any town;
I'm pulling slowly off the road; Lookin' for a place to turn this car around.

I got two or three long-necks along for the ride;
Got a "Help Wanted" section from the classified;
And a one carat diamond I'm tryin' to find
On the floorboard of the passenger's side;
On the floorboard of the passenger's side;
On the floorboard of the passenger's side.

CP Thomas Michael Publishing BMI